Zhi Yin
by Lsquared1501
Summary: A slight retelling of The Clockwork Princess. A few things I felt should be added/wanted to alter. There are a few plot changes but nothing too major. Ultimately the story ends much in the same way as Cassasndra Clare orginally wrote. Only a few things that I wish had happened. Rated M later chapters. Enjoy!
1. A Dreadful Row

**Disclaimer. I own nothing. Story and all characters belong to Cassandra Clare.**

 ***everything in the book is the same until this point***

A Dreadful Row

Jem—

Jem was rushing down the stairs with Gideon and Henry. Will usually would've been by his side, but he was behind him with Cecily. Will had been so distracted ever since his sister had come to the Institute, and however much he might complain or claim to be annoyed, Jem knew he was happy underneath to be spending time with Cecily. Only the amusement at the expense of Will could distract him from the thought that Tessa was upstairs being fitted for a wedding gown. A gown for _their_ wedding. His thoughts were brought up short abruptly when he paused on the on the steps, startled. He had caught sight of Tessa, already at the bottom of the steps, still wearing the dress. His eyes widened, but the others were already pushing by, and he was carried down the steps like a leaf in a current.

Jem was trying to concentrate very hard on following the conversation between Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood, then Henry, Charlotte, and Will joining in. He was still thinking about Tessa in the gold gown. She looked so beautiful it hurt. Once again his thoughts were thinking more about the wedding, he hardly dared to think of _after_ the wedding, when Will's voice insulting Gabriel brought him back to the present. He could always count on Will to bring him back to focus on the present.

"...would have taken account of it and notified someone."

"Notified who?" he asked, not unreasonably. He had moved closer to Tessa as the conversation had continued. As they stood side by side, the backs of their hands brushed. Jem suppressed a shiver. Even the lightest of touches from Tessa could send electricity through his body. He wanted more, so _much_ more.

Jem, beside Tessa, hooked his smaller finger through hers. It was a habitual affectionate gesture, one that they had grown used to over the past months, enough so that Jem knew Tessa put out her hand automatically when she was standing by him. It warmed his heart they already had an affectionate gesture become familiar and established between them.

"Is that your wedding dress?" he asked Tessa under his breath.

Tessa was unable to answer when Bridget appeared, carrying gear, and Gideon suddenly turning to the rest of them and saying, "Chiswick. We must go. Gabriel and I, if no one else."

"Go alone?" Tessa said. "But why would you not call upon others to come with you—"

Another small argument broke out between Will and Gabriel. Jem resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, Will and Gabriel would still be at each other's throats, despite the seriousness of the situation. It was broken up by Gideon, defending Will to Gabriel. Jem spoke up to avoid another spat.

"We will come with you. Of course we will come with you," said Jem, releasing Tessa's hand and stepping forward. "Gideon did us a service. We have not forgotten, have we, Charlotte?"

A flurry of motion and Jem was at Will's side with his stele drawn, tracing a rune on the side of Will's throat. Cecily was looking at Will and scowling.

"I, too, am conveniently already in gear," she announced.

Will jerked his head up, causing Jem to make a sound of annoyed protest. "Cecily, absolutely not." A debate broke out, again. This time it was Will, Cecily, and Henry.

"She's a little girl!" Will exclaimed. Jem felt it was time to intervene.

"You were doing the same at fifteen," he said, quietly, and Will spun back toward him. For a moment everyone seemed to hold their breath, even Gabriel. Jem's gaze held with Will's, steadily, unspoken words passing between them.

Will sighed and half-closed his eyes. "Tessa will be wanting to come next." Jem jerked a little. He had not thought Tessa would want to come.

"Of course I am coming," Tessa said. "I may not be a Shadowhunter, but I too have trained. Jem is not going without me." Jem felt a rush of warmth at her worry for him.

"You are in your _wedding dress_ ," Will protested.

"Well, now that you've all seen it, I can't possibly wear it to be married in," Tessa said stubborn as ever. "Bad luck, you know."

Will groaned something in Welsh—unintelligible, but clearly the tone of a defeated man. Across the room Jem cast Tessa a slight, worried smile. He couldn't help it. He was proud of how brave she was, but didn't want her in danger at the same time. The Institute door swung open then, letting a blaze of autumn sunlight into the entryway. Cyril stood on the threshold, breathless.

"The second carriage is now ready," he said. "Who'll be coming, then?"

 **This is my first fan fiction. Please read and review and please, be kind! I hope you all enjoy!!!**


	2. The Conqueror Worm

**Disclaimer. I own nothing. Story and all character belong to Cassandra Clare.**

 ***everything in the chapter is the same until this point***

The Conqueror Worm

Jem—

Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood disappeared around the other side of the house. Jem stood behind Will while he paused at the corner of the house, with Tessa and Cecily behind them, while Will scanned the gardens with his gaze, alert for any unusual sight or sound. A moment later, he beckoned for them to follow.

As they moved forward, the heel of Tessa's shoe caught on one of the loose bits of gravel beneath the hedges. She stumbled, and immediately righted herself, Jem noticed Will glance back as he did and saw Will scowl. "Tessa," he said. "You sholdn't be with us. You're not prepared. At least wait in the carriage."

"I shan't," said Tessa mutinously. 

Will turned back to Jem. He was trying to hide a smile, knowing it would annoy Will more if he didn't at least _try_ to hide it. "Tessa's _your_ fiancée. You make her see sense." Jem internally groaned at Will's choice of wording. Jem knew no one _made_ Tessa do anything, and he certainly wouldn't try. However, she might be persuaded into doing something. He decided it was worth a try.

Jem, holding his sword-cane in one hand, moved across the gravel to her. "Tessa, do it as a favor to me, could you?" Jem hoped his expression was the right mixture of sweetness and concern. Tessa looked at him with a deadpan expression. 

"You don't think I can fight," Tessa said, drawing back and matching his gaze with her own gray one. "Because I'm a girl." Jem wanted to groan again, out loud this time. He didn't, knowing it wouldn't put him in her good graces. 

"I don't think you can fight because you're wearing a wedding dress, " he said. Jem thought he would try adding a little humor. "For what it's worth, I don't think Will could fight in that dress either."

"Perhaps not," said Will, who had ears like a bat's. "But I would make a radiant bride." Jem strongly resisted the urge to burst into laughter. 

Cecily raised her hand to point into the distance. "What's that?"

All four of them whirled to see a figure racing toward them. A blur of movement became the figure of a running girl, shrieking. Her hat was gone; her light brown hair flew on the wind. She was tall and bony, dressed in a bright fuchsia dress that had probably once been elegant but was now torn and bloodstained. Jem recognized Tatiana Lightwood, newly Balckthorn, as she barreled toward them and threw herself into Will's arms. Will would love that Jem thought with much amusement. 

Will staggered backward, nearly dropping his seraph blade. "Tatiana—"

Jem was certain Will pushed her away rather than Tatiana drawing back on her own, but either way, Tatiana moved an inch or so away from Will. Even though she was tearstained and gasping, Jem could see there was something theatrical about her face, as if she were aware of all eyes on her—especially Will's. He wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't, in the name of politeness. 

"A great monster," she wept. "A creature—it seized darling Rupert from the carriage and made off with him!"

Will pushed her a bit farther away. "What do you mean 'made off with him'?"

She pointed. "Th-there," she sobbed. "It dragged him to the Italian gardens. He managed to elude its maw at first, but it harried him through the paths. No matter how much I screamed, it would not put him d-down!" She burst into a fresh wave of tears. 

"You screamed," Will said. "Is that all you did?" Jem wanted to laugh. He could hear the disbelief mixed with exasperation in Will's voice, at the fact that Tatiana thought screaming would do her any good. Especially after 'a great monster made off with him.'

"I screamed a great deal." Tatiana sounded injured. She drew fully away from Will and fixed him with a green gaze. "I see you are as ungenerous as you ever were." Her eyes skated to Tessa, Cecily, and Jem. "Mr. Carstairs," she said stiffly, as if they were at a garden party. Jem fought to be polite and _not_ roll his eyes Heavenward. He was prevented from replying when Tatiana's eyes fell on Cecily and said, "And you—" Will's impatience finally won out.

"Oh, in the name of the Angel!" Will pushed past her; Jem, with a small smile at Tessa, followed. He did feel a bit bad about leaving Tessa to deal with Tatiana, but she had Cecily, and he couldn't let Will stalk ahead into danger with no one watching his back. Jem couldn't tell exactly what was still being said behind them as he was only half listening, more concerned about listening for sounds that might be more demonic related rather than Tatiana Blackthorn's rambling. 

"A forty-foot worm?" Will muttered to Jem as they moved through the Italian garden, their boots—thanks to a pair of Soundless runes—making no noise on the gravel. "Think of the size of the fish we could catch."

Jem couldn't keep his lips from twitching. "It's not funny, you know."

"It is a bit."

"You cannot reduce the situation to worm jokes, Will. This is Gabriel and Gideon's father we're discussing."

"We're not discussing him; we're chasing him through an ornamental sculpture garden because he's turned into a _worm."_

"A demonic worm," Jem said, feeling like he had to correct him while also pausing to peer cautiously around a hedgerow. "A great serpent. Would that help your inapproiate humor?" 

"There was a time when my inappropriate humor brought you a certain amount of amusement," sighed Will. Jem didn't respond, feeling it was best not to encourage him. However, it didn't matter, as Will was not yet done. "How the worm has turned."

" _Will—"_ How frustrating Will could be sometimes!

Jem was interrupted by an earsplitting scream. Both boys spun, in time to see Tatiana Blackthorn reel backward into Tessa's arms. Tessa caught the other girl, supporting her, as Cecily moved toward a gap in the hedges, whipping a seraph blade from her belt with the ease of a practiced Shadowhunter. Jem didn't hear her speak, but the blade sprang up in her hand, lighting her face. Jem knew the sight would fill Will with dread. 

Will began to run, Jem at his heels. Tatiana was sagging limply in Tessa's arms, her face starkly twisted into a wail. "Rupert! _Rupert!"_ Jem could see Tessa struggling with the other girl's weight, Jem moved moved to help her, his hand on Tessa's. 

Will called Cecily's name as she was edging around the grisly remains of Rupert Blackthorn. She began to turn—

And the world exploded. A fountain of dirt and mud sprayed up before them, geyersing into the sky. Clods of earth and mud clattered down on them like hail. In the center of the geyser—an enormous, blind serpent, a pale grayish-white color. The color of dead flesh. A stench came off it like the stench of a grave. Tatiana gave a wail and went limp, pulling Tessa to the ground with her. 

The worm began to fling itself to and fro, trying to pull free of the earth. Its mouth opened—it was less of a mouth and more of an enormous slash bisecting its head, lined with sharklike teeth. A great keening hiss came from its throat. 

A small battle ensued between the large creature, Jem, Will, and Cecily. Jem was just aware enough that Tessa wasn't involved, nor Tatiana. Thank the Angel for small favors. With a hiss, the demonic worm disappeared behind a hedgerow. Previously on the ground, with Tatiana in her lap, Tessa was on her feet, pulling Tatiana up by main force, looking the other girl's arm about her own shoulders even as Tatiana lolled against her, half-conscious. 

"You must move her from here. She'll be killed," Will said, sweeping his gaze over the garden. "She has no training."

Jem saw Tessa's mouth begin to set in its familiar, stubborn line. As much as Jem loved her stubbornness, and how cute she looked when she employed it, it exasperated him at this particular moment. He was concerned for her safety and a swooning Tatiana Blackthorn in her arms left her in no position to defend herself, if need be. "I don't wish to leave you." Internally, Jem smiled in equal pride and vexation. 

Cecily looked horrified. "You don't think...Wouldn't the creature hold off? She's his daughter. It it—if he—has any family feeling left—"

"He _consumed_ his son-in-law, Cecy." Will snapped. "Tessa, go with Tatiana if you want to save her life. And stay with her by the house. It would be a disaster if she came rushing back here."

"Thank you, Will," Jem murmured as Tessa drew the stumbling girl away as quickly as she could. He was grateful to know Will saw how concerned he was for Tessa, would protect her for his sake. 

The battle began anew, this time Gabriel and Gideon joining in the fight. When it was over, the demon formerly known as Benedict Lightwood, was vanquished to whichever demon realm it had come from. The killing blow coming in the form of an arrow to one of the worm's lidless eyes, shot by none other than Gabriel Lightwood. Cecily's right wrist was twisted at an odd angle, and Jem's restraining hand was the only thing keeping Will from running to her. Will turned on his _parabatai_ wildly. "My _sister—"_

"Your _face,"_ replied Jem, with remarkable calm, considering the situation. "You are covered in demon blood, William, and it is burning you. I must give you an _iratze_ before the damage cannot be undone." 

"Let me go," Will insisted, and tried to pull away, but Jem's cool hand was cupping the back of his neck, applying the stele to Will's wrist, tracing the healing rune. Jem let go of him with a small hiss of pain of his own; he had gotten some of the ichor on his fingers. Will paused, Jem could see the irreslouteness on his features, as if he couldn't decide between his _parabatai_ and his sister—but Jem waved him away, already applying his stele to his hand. 

Jem wondered how long the squabble between Will and Gabriel would last over over caring for Cecily and Will barking at Gabriel to get _away_ from his sister. Jem knew the implacability of Will's tone of voice. Jem felt amusement, but also tenderness toward his _parabatai_ for the affection and attentiveness Will was showing his sister, albeit that he was on the agitated side now. It was so sudden Jem didn't even feel the cough coming on, he was so wrapped up in the touching scene with Will and Cecily, Will unusually not hearing the sound. 

Cecily was responding to something Gabriel said when she broke off, her eyes widening as she looked past Will. Jem coughed again, he saw Will turn just in time to see him slump to his knees on the ground. 


	3. To the Last Hour

**Disclaimer. I own nothing. Story and all character belong to Cassandra Clare.**

everything in the chapter is the same until this point*

To the Last Hour

Jem was leaning against the side of the Institue's carriage, his eyes closed, his face pale as paper. Will stood beside him, his hand tightly gripping his shoulder. It was not just a brotherly gesture. Will's grip was much of what was keeping Jem uprigh, he hated it. He was so tired. The exhaustion was deep in his bones. It wasn't just his illness causing him to feel this way either, it was Tessa. Or more precisely, being away from Tessa in a potentially dangerous situation. Yes, Benedict's, or rather his demon pox induced transformation, had been vanquished, but Tessa wasn't with them, and who knew what else could be lurking in the house. Gabriel had gone off to search for her and Henry, he fervently wished he would hurry. Jem felt Will's hand tighten on his sleeve. "She's here," he said. He sighed in relief. Tessa's prescence was like a balm for his soul.

Jem opened his eyes slowly. " _Ni shou shang le ma, quin ai de?"_ he whispered. At Tessa's insistence, he'd been teaching her Mandarin. He knew she wouldn't understand all he said, but he was sure she would recognize " _quin ai de,"_ at least. _My dear, my darling._ Tessa reached for his hand, squeezed it. "Jem..." Her touch was so soothing to Jem. Will spoke before he could.

"Are you hurt, my love?" Tessa's cheeks flushed a little before she glanced down at her hand where it held his; his fingers were much paler than hers. "Thank you for the translation, Will," she answered, never looking away from him. Her eyes looked over both him and Will. They were both splattered with black ichor, but Jem knew his chin and throat were also stained with flecks of red blood. His own blood.

"I am not hurt." Tessa whispered. She straightened her shoulders, keeping her grip on Jem's hand. "Where's his medicine?" She demanded of Will. "Did he not take it before we left the Institute?" Now he was slightly annoyed.

"Do not talk about me is if I am not here," Jem said, but with no anger in it. He turned his head to the side and spoke, softly, under his breath to Will, who then nodded and let go of his shoulder. He knew it was prideful, but he didn't want to look, even if he felt it, so weak in front of his fiancée. _Fiancée._ He loved thinking it, but would be even happier when he could say _wife_ instead.

Will was still tense beside him; he was poised, catlike, to seize Jem again if he should slip or fall, but he remained standing, determined. "I am stronger when Tessa is here, you see. I told it to you," he said, in the same soft voice. Will ducked his head. "I see it."

"Tessa, there is none of his medicine here. I believe he left the Institute without taking enough of it, though he will not admit it." Jem inwardly chuckled and groaned at the same time at Will's explanation. "Ride back to the Institute with him in the carriage, and watch over him—someone must." There were times when Jem wanted to shake Will for his blunt way of ordering people about, and this was one of those moments. However, he pushed it aside. He took a breath. "The others—"

"I will drive for you. It will be little trouble; Balios and Xanthos know the way. Henry can drive the Lightwoods." Will was brisk and efficient, too brisk and efficient to even be thanked; he did not seem as if he wanted it. Jem wondered at his tone. This behavior was nothing new for Will, Jem thought with a small smile. Will helped Tessa get him into the carriage before she followed, sitting on the bench beside him. He could hear Henry explaining that he needed to remove Benedict's record books from the house, then the carriage door closed, shutting himself and Tessa into a welcome silence.

It was quiet inside the carriage and Jem wanted to sleep, he was so tried. Once again his pride wouldn't let him. Plus, there was the desire to hear Tessa's voice. They were so rarely left alone like this, for proprieties' sake, no matter how much he wished it were different. Will was there, but outside and wouldn't be able to hear him unless they shouted. Jem was definitely too tired to do any shouting.

"What was inside the house?" Jem asked as they rattled through the open gates bordering the Lightwoods' property. His head was back against the cushions of the carriage, his eyes at half-mast. He could feel the fever in his cheeks. "I heard Henry speaking of Benedict's study..."

"He had gone mad in there," Tessa said, chafing his cold hands between hers. "In the days before he transformed, when Gabriel said he would not leave the room, his mind must have gone. He had scrawled on the wall in what looked like blood, sentences about 'the Infernal Devices.' That they had no pity, that they would never stop coming—" _'Infernal Devices?' What in the world?_ Understanding clicked in his mind.

"He must have meant the automaton army." ' _Infernal,' they were indeed,_ Jem thought grimly.

"He must have." Tessa shivered slightly, and he felt her move closer to him. "I suppose it was foolish of me—but it has been so peaceful for these past two months—"

Jem was a little surprised. _Peaceful?_ "You had forgotten about Mortmain?"

"No. Never forgotten." She glanced toward the window, though Jem knew she could not see out; she had drawn the curtains when she noticed the light seemed to be hurting his eyes. He was grateful that she saw such things and tried to make him more comfortable. "Hoped, perhaps, that he might have turned his mind elsewhere." He was glad she was not overly dwelling on the continued search for Mortmain.

Hoping to give her reassurance, Jem said, "We do not know that he hasn't." His fingers wrapped around Tessa's. "Benedict's death is a tragedy perhaps, but those wheels were set in motion long ago. This has nothing to do with you."

"There were other items in the library. Notes and books of Benedict's. Journals. Henry is bringing them back to the Institute to study. My name was in them." Tessa stopped; she seemed to not want to trouble him with these things when he would look so unwell to her.

Reading her mind, his fingers moved over her wrist, resting lightly on her pulse point, he loved the feel of her heartbeat. "Tessa, it is only a passing attack. It will not last. I would rather you told me the truth, all the truth, whether it is bitter or frightening, that I might share it with you." Jem only wanted to share everything with her. Happiness, sadness, anger, worry, fright, all of it. "I would never let harm come to you, nor would any in the Institute." He smiled. "Your pulse is quickening." _Was it because of him?_ He hoped so. He knew all too well what she did to his heartbeat.

"I love you," she said. His heart soared. " _Wo xi wang ni ming tian ke yi jia gei wo."_

"You..." Tessa drew her brows together in that adorable way he loved. "You want to get married? But we are already engaged. I do not think one can get engaged twice." Jem loved her humor.

He laughed, which turned into a cough; the cough was slight, and there was no blood. Tessa's whole body had tightened. "I said I would marry you tomorrow if I could." It was the truth. He'd marry her right in this moment, covered in demon and his own blood, Tessa in her ruined gold gown. None of that was significant, in his eyes. All that was important was the two of them.

Tessa had her usual delightful and witty remark ready, he observed. She pretended to toss her head. "Tomorrow is not convenient for me, sir." This was one of the many reasons why he loved her. She could still find humor, despite the dangerous, horrible situation they had just gone through.

"But you are already appropriately attired," he said with a smile.

Tessa looked down at the ruined gold of her wedding dress. "If I were getting married in a slaughter house," she said. Yes, he had to agree with that statement. He was about to tell her she looked beautiful anyway when she spoke again.

"Ah, well. I did not like this one very much as it was. Much too gaudy." He could tell her now. "I thought you looked beautiful." His voice was soft.

Tessa laid her head against his shoulder. He was pleased, enjoying the warmth of her. "There will be another time," she said. "Another day, another dress. A time when you are well and everything is perfect."

He smiled a bit when she said this. He couldn't help it. He loved she could still think this way, but he knew better. His voice was still gentle, but it held a terrible weariness, a tone that held volumes of sorrow and heartbreak. "There is no such thing as perfect, Tessa." _How I wish there was!_ Neither spoke again.

It wasn't too much longer until they reached the Institute. The gates creaked open and they rattled inside. Will helped Tessa out of the carriage, then Jem, leaning heavily on his _parabatai's_ shoulder. He needed more help than he cared to admit, but he tried not to let it show. He still appreciated Will's aid, and put up a small amount of protest before disappearing inside the Institute with Will and Tessa. They had taken him to his bedroom. Charlotte was bending over Jem, who was sitting on the bed; Will leaned by the fireplace, his arms crossed, tension clear in every line of his body. Tessa was hesitating just outside his bedroom, ashen and pinched-looking. Jem could barely see that Sophie had joined her in the hallway. He gave up trying to pay attention, though, turning his focus back to Charlotte and her healing ministrations.

 ***The rest of the chapter continues exactly as in the book***


	4. To Be Wise and Love

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

To Be Wise and Love

Jem—

"I thought you'd at least make a song out of it," said Jem.

Will looked at his _parabatai_ curiously. Jem, though he had asked for Will, was not in a forthcoming mood, most unusual for Will. He was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed in a clean shirt and trousers, though the shirt was loose. He wasn't aware there were still flecks of dried blood around his collarbones, making a sort of brutal necklace. "Make a song of what?" Will asked.

Jem's mouth quirked. "Our defeat of the worm?" he said. "After all those jokes you made..." He had been quite looking forward to the amusing lyrics Will would invent, despite the true seriousness of what had happened.

"I have not been in a joking mood, these past few hours," Will said, his eyes flicking to the bloody rags that covered the nightstand by the bed, the bowl half-full of pinkish fluid. Jem cringed a little at the sight, a grim reminder of his attack.

"Don't fuss, Will," Jem said. "Everyone's been fussing over me and I can't abide it; I wanted you because—because you wouldn't. You make me laugh." _I don't want Tessa to see me like this, either._

Will threw his arms up. "Oh, all right," he said. "How's this?

 _"Forsooth, I no longer toil in vain,_

 _To prove that demon pox warps the brain,_

 _So though 'tis pity, it's not in vain,_

 _That the pox-ridden worm was slain:_

 _For to believe in me, you all must deign."_

 _Oh, by the Angel!_ Jem burst out laughing. "Well, that was awful."

"It was impromptu!" Will was indignant, making Jem want to laugh more.

"Will, there is such a thing as _scansion_ —" Between one moment and the next Jem's laughter turned into a fit of coughing. Will darted forward as Jem doubled up, his thin shoulders heaving. Blood splattered the bed's white coverlet.

"Jem—"

Unable to speak and with a hand, Jem gestured toward the box on his nightstand. He was too preoccupied to realize what Will would see once he lifted the lid, on it a delicately drawn woman, pouring water from a jug. Will snapped the box open—and froze. "Jem," he said in a strangled voice, "how is this all there is?" _Oh, no._ His heart sank.

Jem stopped coughing. There was blood on his lips, Will watched him as he raised his arm and scrubbed the blood from his face with his sleeve. The linen was instantly scarlet. _The moment of truth is upon me._ He was not looking forward to this confrontation with Will that was about to happen.

"Will," he said softly. He didn't know if he was pleading with Will to understand or asking forgiveness. More than likely it was both.

"Two months ago," Will began, his voice rising, then was forced down with an effort Jem could tell. "Two months ago I purchased enough _yin fen_ that it should have lasted a year." It was time for Jem to confess.

There was a mixture of challenge and sadness in Jem's glance. "I have accelerated the process of taking it."

"Accelerated it? By how much?"

Jem was now unable to meet Will's gaze as he made his confession. "I have been taking twice, perhaps three times, as much." _There, it was done._ Jem waited.

"But the rate at which you take the drug is tied to the deterioration of your health," Will said, and when Jem said nothing back, he couldn't, Will's voice rose and cracked on a single word: " _Why_?"

"I do not want to live half a life—" Will _had_ to understand.

"At this rate you won't even live a fifth of one!" shouted Will. Jem's expression changed, and Will slammed the box he was holding back onto the nightstand.

Jem sat up straight, his eyes blazing. "There is more to living than _not dying_ ," he said. "Look at the way you live, Will. You burn as bright as a star. I had been taking only enough of the drug to keep me alive but not enought to keep me _well_. A little extra of the drug before battles, perhaps, to give me energy, but otherwise, a half life, a gray twilight of a life—"

"But you have changed your dosage now? Has this been since the engagement?" Will demanded. "Is this because of Tessa?"

"You cannot blame her for this. This was my decision. She has no knowledge of it." _She never will, if I can help it._

She would want you to live, James—"

" _I am not going to live!"_ Jem was on his feet, his cheeks flushed; he was angry. "I am not going to live, and I can choose to be as much for her as I can be, to burn as brightly for her as I wish, and for a shorter time, than to burden her with someone only half-alive for a longer time. It is my choice, William, and you cannot make it for me." _No one can!_

"Maybe I can. I have always been the one to buy your _yin fen_ for you—"

The color went in Jem's face. _The stubborn fool!_ "If you refuse to do it, I will buy it on my own. I have always been willing. You said you wished to be the one who bought it." _Right, I still owe him money._ "And as to that—" He pulled the Carstairs family ring from his finger and held it out to Will. "Take it."

Will's eyes drifted down toward the ring, and then up to Jem's face. He looked to be deliberating what to say. "You wish to marry _me_ now?" Will said, at last. It frustrated Jem that Will was trying to use humor to distract from the tense situation, but Jem wouldn't have it, not today. He was not in the mood.

"Sell the ring," Jem said. "For the money. I told you, you should not have to pay for my drugs; I paid for yours once, you know, and I recall the feeling. It was unpleasant."

Will winced, then looked down at the Carstairs family symbol glittering in Jem's pale, scarred palm. Jem watched as he reached out and took his hand gently, closing his fingers over the ring. "When did you become reckless and I cautious? Since when have I had to guard you from yourself? It is always you who had guarded me." Will's eyes searched his face. "Help me to understand you."

Jem stood very still. Then he said, "In the beginning, when I first realized I loved Tessa, I did think that perhaps love was making me well. I had not had an attack in so long. And when I asked her to marry me, I told her that. That love was healing me. So the first time I was—the first time it happened again, after that, I could not bear to tell her, lest she think it meant a lessening of my love for her. I took more of the drug, to fend off another illness. Soon it was taking more of the drug to simply keep me on my feet than it used to take to keep me going for a week. I don't have years, Will. I might not even have months. And I don't want Tessa to know. Please don't tell her. Not just for her sake but for mine." _Please, Will, do not fight me on this._ Jem desperately hoped Will would not. He honestly didn't think he had the strength for it.

It took a few moments after Jem ended his little speech before he spoke again. "So you are dying for love, then." Will said finally, his voice sounding constricted.

"Dying a little faster for love. And there are worse things to die for."

Will released Jem's hand; Jem looked from the ring to him, his eyes questioning. "Will—"

"I'll go to Whitechapel, Will whispered. "Tonight. I will get you all the _yin fen_ there is, everything you could need."

Jem shook his head and sighed. "I cannot ask you to do something that goes against your conscience."

"My conscience," Will whispered. "You are my conscience. You have ever been, James Carstairs. I will do this for you, but I will extract one promise first." _Oh, dear, what does he want me to do?_ Jem couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive at Will's request.

"What sort of promise?" He almost wanted to deny any promise Will would want. He could be quite inventive, his songs were proof, and was worried how that might apply to the making of promises.

"You asked me years ago to cease looking for a cure for you," Will said. "I want you to release me from that promise. Free me to look, at least. Free me to search.

Jem looked at him with some wonder. "Just when I think I know you perfectly, you surprise me again. Yes, I will free you. Search. Do what you must. I cannot fetter your best intentions; it would only be cruel, and I would do the same for you, were I in your place. You know that, don't you?" _No, he could no longer hold Will to that promise. It was indeed most cruel._

"I know it." Will took a step forward. He put his hands on Jem's shoulders. "This is not some empty promise, James. Believe me, there is no one who knows more than I do the pain of false hope. I will look. If there is anything to be found, I will find it. But until then—your life is yours to live as you choose." That lifted Jem's spirit more than anything else Will could've said. He smiled. "I know that," he said, "but it is gracious of you to remind me."

"I am nothing if not gracious," Will said. Will's eyes searched his face. "And determined. _You will not leave me._ Not while I live."

Jem's eyes widened, but he said nothing. What could he say to that? There was no more to be said. Will dropped his hands from his _parabatai's_ shoulders and turned toward the door.

Tessa—

 _The Infernal Devices are without pity. The Infernal Devices are without regret. The Infernal Devices are without number. The Infernal Devices will never stop coming._ _The Infernal Devices are without pity. The Infernal Devices are without regret. The Infernal Devices are without number. The Infernal Devices will never stop coming_

The words written on the wall of Benedict's study echoed in Tessa's head as she sat by Jem's bed, watching him sleep. She was not sure what time is was exactly; it was surely past midnight now. Jem had been awake when she had come in, just after Will had gone, awake and sitting up and well enough to take some tea and toast, though he'd been more breathless than she would have liked, and paler.

Neither she nor Jem had mentioned his attack since the carriage ride from the Lightwood House in Chiswick. She supposed it was partly that if they ignored it, then they could pretend it wasn't a problem. She knew they would have to talk about it eventually, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to it. Jem had been so well these past couple months that it was almost as if she had hoped, but not forgotten, like with Mortmain, that he would stay well for much longer than they originally thought. She very much doubted it now, and it broke her heart.

They had talked of inane things, no real intended subject, in an attempt to avoid the true matter on their minds. Sophie had come later to clear away the food, and had smiled at Tessa. "Fluff his pillows up," she had suggested in a whisper, and Tessa had done it, though Jem had looked amused at her fussing. Tessa had never had much experience with sickrooms. Taking care of her brother when he'd been drunk was the closest she had come to playing nursemaid. She didn't mind it now that it was Jem, did not mind sitting holding his hand while he breathed softly, his eyes half-closed, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Watching him sleep, she was reminded just how much she loved him. She truly did.

"Not very heroic," he said suddenly without opening his eyes, though his voice was steady.

Tessa started forward, wondering how long he'd been awake. She had slid her fingers into his earlier, and their linked hands lay beside him on the bed. His fingers were cool in hers, his pulse slow. "What do you mean?"

"Today," he said in a low voice, and coughed. "Collapsing and coughing up blood all over Lightwood House—" _Oh, Jem, I don't need you to be heroic. I still love you all the same,_ Tessa thought. She didn't say that though.

What she did say was, "It only improved the look of the place," trying to interject some humor.

"Now you sound like Will." Jem gave a sleepy smile. "And you're changing the subject, just like he would." Tessa cringed inwardly. She didn't want to think how alike Will she was. She tried to forget that he said that.

"Of course I am. As if I would ever think any less of you for being ill; you know that I don't. And you were quite heroic today. Though Will was saying earlier," she added, "that heroes all come to bad ends, and he could not imagine why anyone would want to be one anyway."

"Ah." Jem's hand squeezed her briefly, and then let it go. "Well, Will is looking at it from the hero's viewpoint, isn't he? But as for the rest of us, it's an easy answer."

"Is it?" Tessa couldn't fathom what it was.

"Of course. Heroes endure because we need them. Not for their own sakes." _Of course, he would feel that way._

"You speak of them as though you were not one." She _needed_ to comfort him so she reached to brush the hair from his forehead. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing. "Jem—have you ever—" She hesitated, did she really want to go down this path? She had to know though. She would hate herself forever if she didn't. "Have you ever thought of ways to prolong your life that are not a cure for the drug?"

At that his eyelids flew open. "What do you mean?" Again, Tessa hesitated.

She thought of Will, on the floor of the attic, choking on holy water. "Becoming a vampire. You would live forever—"

He scrambled upright against the pillows. _Oh, no._ "Tessa, _no._ Don't—you can't think that way."

She darted her eyes away from him. "Is the thought of becoming a Downworlder truly so horrible to you?" She struggled to keep the hurt from her voice. She didn't think his objection would sting so much. It did. _Why is he marrying me then?_ She couldn't help the thought.

"Tessa..." He exhaled. "I am a Shadowhunter. Nephilim. Like my parents before me. It is the heritage I claim, just as I claim my mother's heritage as part of myself. It does not mean I hate my father. But I honor the gift they gave me, the blood of the Angel, the trust placed in me, the vows I have taken. Nor, I think, would I make a very good vampire. Vampires by and large despise us. Sometimes they Turn a Nephilim, as a joke, but that vampire is scorned by the others. We carry day and the fire of angels in our veins, everything they hate. The would shun me, and the Nephilim would shun me. I would no longer be Will's _parabatai,_ no longer be welcome in the Institute. No, Tessa. I would rather die and be reborn and see the sun again, than live to the end of the world without daylight." Tessa could understand that. Truly, she did.

"A Silent Brother, then" she said. "The _Codex_ says that the runes they put upon themselves are powerful enough to arrest their mortality."

"Silent Brothers cannot marry, Tessa." He had lifted his chin. Tessa smiled to herself. She had known for a long time that beneath Jem's gentleness lay a stubbornness as strong as Will's. She could see it shine through now, steel under silk.

But she _had_ to make him understand, understand that she loved him enough to let him go, if it would save him. "You know I would rather have you alone and not married to me than—" _Dead._ She stopped, her throat closed on the word. She couldn't say it.

His eyes softened slightly. "The path of Silent Brotherhood is not open to me. With the _yin fen_ in my blood, contaminating it, I cannot survive the runes they must put upon themselves. I would have to cease the drug until it was purged from my system, and that would most likely kill me." His voice gentled. "And it is not much of a life they have, Silent Brothers, shadows and darkness, silence and—no music." He swallowed. "And besides, I do not wish to live forever." _Not even for me?_

"I may live forever," she said. The enormity of it was something she could still not quite comprehend. It was as hard to comprehend that your life would never end as it was to comprehend that it would.

"I know," Jem said. "And I am sorry for it, for I think it is a burden no one should have to bear. You know I believe we live again, Tessa. I will return, if not in this body. Souls that love each other are drawn to each other in their next lives. I will see Will, my parents, my uncles, Charlotte, and Henry..."

"But you will not see me." It was not the first time she had thought it, though she often pushed the thought down when it rose. _If I am immortal, then I have only this, this one life. I will not turn and change as you do, James. I will not see you in Heaven, or on the banks of the great river, or in whatever life lies beyond this one._ This saddened her, but she was determined not to let Jem see. She didn't want to make him feel worse.

"I see you now." He reached out and put his hand on her cheek, his clear silver-gray eyes searching hers. He was always so gentle and so sweet.

"And I see you," she whispered, and he smiled tiredly, closing his eyes. She put her hand over his, her cheek resting in the hollow of his palm. She sat, wordless, his fingers cool against her skin, until his breathing slowed and his fingers went boneless in hers; he had fallen asleep. With a rueful smile she lowered his hand gently so that it rested on the coverlet, by his side. She could watch him sleep forever, forever indeed being a possibility, at least, for her.

Jem— _this is all my own idea._

Jem was dreaming. He was standing on a beautiful green hilltop, he didn't recognize where. It was a sunny day with clear, blue skies. Something was different, but he couldn't put his finger on what. It was when his hair fluttered in his eyes from the breeze that he realized what it was; his hair was what was different. It was no longer silver, but the deep brown he was born with, before the _yin fen_ began poisoning his blood. He had no need to look into a mirror to know that his eyes were no longer silver, either. _How is this possible?_ Jem thought. He was just marveling at how happy he was, how it was a miracle when his mind went blank. He had just caught sight of Tessa walking toward him. She was wearing a gold gown, the Shadowhunter wedding color, and it was much plainer than the one she had worn earlier in the day. He much agreed with Tessa that the other one was much too gaudy. This simple gown suited her, she didn't need all that adornment to look perfect.

She smiled at him and it was like the wind was knocked out of him, she looked so beautiful. He returned the look with a grin so wide it almost hurt his face. It did not matter. He was too happy. How could he not be? He was whole again, no longer dependent on the _yin fen,_ he was about to marry Tessa, the love of his life. It was nearly perfect. _Where was Will?_ Jem was reluctant to remove his eyes from the vision of Tessa, but he needed to know where Will was. He coiuldn't get married without his _parabatai_. He looked around, not finding Will anywhere, he gave up.

He silently watched as Tessa finished her journey, coming to stand before him. There was a radiance emitting from her so warm It enveloped him. A Silent Brother was before them and began the marriage ceremony. Now he was worried. Since Tessa was not a Shadowhunter and couldn't have the runes drawn upon her, they were using rings, like mundanes. He didn't have his ring, Will did. Sophie, behind Tessa, handed her the ring and Tessa proceeded to slide it on his finger saying the words of commitment he would never take for granted.

His faced flamed. How could Will do this to him? The most important moment since their _parabatai_ ceremony? He felt a gentle tap on his elbow. Turning, Jem saw Will. Relief flooded him, and he smiled brilliantly at Will. As he accepted the ring, he expected a grin back from Will, but it didn't come. There was a look of such intense pain on Will's face he almost stopped, to ask if he needed an _iratze._ Will must've expected this as he waved him back toward Tessa. Jem hesitated, but did so. Will wouldn't brush away help if he truly needed it. Jem turned back to Tessa, but he couldn't get the look on Will's face out of his mind. It was the last thing he remembered before he dropped back down into the darkness of deep sleep.

 **Chapter proceeds as written in the book**


	5. A Heart Divided

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare.**

A Heart Divided

Will and Tessa left Jem sleeping. They seek help from Magnus Bane at Woolsey Scott's house. A fight breaks out between Will and Woolsey after Woolsey implies Will can't wait for Jem to die so that he can have Tessa. Some damage is done to Will, Woolsey, and furniture, before Magnus breaks up the fight. Tessa is left alone with Woolsey, Magnus forcing Will from the room.

Will—

Magnus drug Will away from Woolsey, effectively ceasing their fight. Will was ready to tear Woolsey apart. It did not matter that he was a werewolf, the leader of the Praetor Lupus, that his pack would want revenge or that by killing him it would end their alliance with the London Enclave, thereby starting a war between the werewolves and the entire Clave. If that happened, the rest of Downworld would probably join in. There were already tensions over the de Quincey debacle, despite the fact he _was_ breaking the Law. None of that mattered to Will in that moment. Saving Jem's life was all he thought about. Saving Jem for Tessa.

"Let me go. Let me go!" Will struggled, but Magnus's grip was like iron. Will was surprised since Magnus was so thin. He _was_ a Warlock though, and looks could always be deceiving. He marched Will down the corridor and into a half-lit library. Will pulled free just as Magnus let go of him, resulting in an inelegant stumble that fetched him up against the back of a red velvet sofa. _Tessa!_ "I cannot leave Tessa alone with Woolsey—"

"Her virtue is hardly in danger from him," Magnus said dryly. "Woolsey will behave himself, which is more than I can say for you." Will wanted to roll his eyes.

Will turned around slowly, wiping blood from his face. "You're glaring at me," he said to Magnus. "You look like Church before he bites someone." Dry humor in the midst of tense situations was Will's speciality.

"Picking a fight with the head of the Praetor Lupus," Magnus said bitterly. "You know what his pack would do to you if they had an excuse. You _want_ to die, don't you?"

"I don't," Will said, surprising even himself a little. _No, I actually don't._

"I don't know why I ever helped you."

"You like broken things."

Magnus took two strides across the room and seized Will's face in his long fingers, forcing his chin up. "You are _not_ Sydney Carton," he said. "What good will it do you to die for James Carstairs, when he is dying anyway?"

"Because if I save him, then it is worth it—"

"God!" Magnus's eyes narrowed. " _What_ is worth it? What could possibly be worth it?" _How could Magnus be so blind? He's supposed to be centuries old!_

"Everything I have lost!" Will shouted. " _Tessa_!"

Magnus dropped his hand from Will's face. He took several paces backward and breathed in and out slowly, as if mentally counting to ten. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "About what Woolsey said." Will realized that Magnus still didn't quite understand.

"If Jem dies, I cannot be with Tessa," said Will. "Because it will be as if I were waiting for him to die, or took some joy in his death, if it let me have her. And I will not be that person. I will not profit from his death. So he must live. It is the only way any of this can ever mean anything. Otherwise it is only—"

"Pointless, needless suffering and pain?" So maybe Magnus did understand. "I don't suppose it would help if I told you that is the way life is. The good suffer, the evil flourish, and all that is mortal passes away?"

"I want more than that," said Will. " _You_ made me want more than that. You showed me I was only ever cursed because I had chosen to believe myself so. You told me there was possibility, meaning. And now you would turn your back on what you created."

Magnus laughed shortly. "You are incorrigible." _Well, we seem to have moved past the tense stage where Magnus was about to curse him, a real curse this time,_ Will thought.

"I've heard that." Will pulled himself away from the sofa, wincing. _So maybe Magnus was right that picking a fight with Woolsey wasn't the best idea._ He wondered how many _iratzes_ he needed. "You'll help me, then?"

"I'll help you." Will sighed in relief. He hadn't been entirely sure Magnus would until he'd said it. Magnus reached down his shirtfront and drew out something that dangled on a chain, something that glowed with a soft red light. A square red stone. "Take this."

He folded it into Will's hand. _What?_

Will looked at him in confusion. "This was Camille's."

"I gave it to her as a gift," said Magnus, a bitter quirk to the side of his mouth. "She returned all my gifts to me last month. You might as well take it. It warns when demons are close. It might work on those clockwork creations of Mortmain's." _That would be helpful._

" 'True love cannot die,' " Will said, translating the inscription on the back in the light from the corridor. _True love cannot die?_ Will wanted to scoff, but did not want to hurt Magnus. He knew Magnus had loved Camille. And it was an apt quote, as Magnus and Camille were both immortal. "I can't wear this, Magnus. It's too pretty for a man."

"So are you. Go home and clean yourself up. I will call upon you as soon as I have information." He looked at Will keenly. "In the meantime do your best to be worthy of my assistance." Will vowed to himself, and the Angel, that he would.

Tessa—

"If you come near me, I shall bash in your head with this poker," Tessa said, brandishing the fireplace instrument between herself and Woolsey Scott as if it were a sword.

"I've no doubt you would too," he said, looking at her with a grudging sort of respect as he mopped the blood from his chin with a monogrammed handkerchief. Will had been bloody too, his own blood and Woolsey's; he was doubtless in another room with Magnus now, getting more blood smeared everywhere. Will was never overconcerned with neatness, and even less so when he was emotional. He was definitely emotional. "I see you've begun to be like them, the Shadowhunters you seem to adore so much. Whatever possessed you to engage yourself to one of them? And a dying one at that."

Rage flared up in Tessa, and she considered smacking Woolsey with the poker whether he came near her or not. _He'd deserve a good whop over the head._ He had moved awfully quickly while fighting Will, though, and she didn't fancy her chances. "You don't know James Carstairs. Don't speak about him."

"Love him, do you?" Woolsey managed to make it sound unpleasant. "But you love Will, too."

Tessa froze inside. She had known that Magnus knew of Will's affection for her, but the idea that what she felt for him in return was written across her face was too terrifying to contemplate. "That's not true."

"Liar," said Woolsey. "Really, what is the difference if one of them dies? You always have a fine secondary option."

Tessa thought of Jem, of the shape of his face, his eyes shut in concentration as he played the violin, the curve of his mouth when he smiled, his fingers careful in hers—every line of him inexpressibly dear to her. "If you had two children," she said, "would you say that it was all right if one of them died, because then you'd still have another?"

"One can love two children. But your heart can be given in romantic love to only a single other," said Woolsey. "That is the nature of Eros, is it not? So novels would tell us, though I have no experience of it myself."

"I have come to understand something about novels," Tessa said. Life had taught her so much this past year, thanks to the Dark Sisters, Nate and Mortmain.

"And what is that?"

"That they are not true." _Novels are just that, fiction with a well thought out story and with an intended outcome. Life is not that way._

Woolsey quirked an eyebrow. "You are a funny thing," he said. "I would say I could see what those boys see in you, but..." He shrugged. His yellow dressing gown had a long, bloody tear in it now. "Women are not something I have ever understood."

"What about them do you find mysterious, sir?"

"The point of them, mainly."

"Well, you must have had a mother," said Tessa.

"Someone whelped me, yes," said Woolsey without much enthusiasm. "I remember her little."

"Perhaps, but you would not exist without a woman, would you? However little use you may find us, we are cleverer and more determined and more patient than men. Men may be stronger, but it is women who endure."

"Is that what you are doing? Enduring? Surely an engaged woman should be happier." His light eyes raked her.

Tessa was outraged that Woolsey Scott was implying that she wouldn't be affected if Jem died because she would have Will as a _consolation_ prize. As if she wouldn't _mind_ if Jem died if Will was waiting in the background. She knew without a doubt, just like the night Will had proposed, that if Jem died, Will would _never_ be with her. He would feel his honor, love and his bond as Jem's _parabatai_ would forbid it. She loved him all the more for it, despite how much she loved Jem. What Woolsey said next brought her up short.

"A heart divided against itself cannot stand, as they say. You love them both, and it tears you apart." _Heart? That's not right._

"House," said Tessa.

He raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"A house divided against itself cannot stand. Not a heart. Perhaps you should not attempt quotations if you cannot get them correct."

"And maybe you should stop pitying yourself," he said. "Most people are lucky to have even one great love in their life. You have found two."

"Says the man who has none." But Woolsey was indeed correct, she _had_ found two great loves. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she could no longer deny it.

"Oh!" Woolsey staggered back with his hand against his heart, mock swooning. "The dove has teeth." _How dare he mock me!_

 **Chapter continues as written.**


	6. Let Darkness

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices**

Let Darkness

Jem opened the door and walked into the silent dining room. He saw Tessa look up with surprise then delight. He did not feel usually ill, only tired and looked pale. He slid gracefully into the seat beside Tessa. "Good morning."

"You look much better, Jemmy," Charlotte observed with delight. _Jemmy? She hasn't called me that in years._ Tessa looked at Jem with amusement; he shrugged and gave her a self-deprecating grin.

"I am, quite," Jem said. "The Silent Brothers were of great assistance." He wished everyone wouldn't fuss so much, but knew it was useless. He reached to pour himself a cup of tea, and he could see the bones and tendons move in his wrist, distressingly visible. When he set the pot down, Tessa reached for his hand beneath the table, and he clasped it. His slim fingers wound about hers reassuringly. The comfort from her touch was immeasurable.

Bridget's voice floated out from the kitchen.

 _"Cold blows the wind tonight, sweetheart,_

 _Cold are the drops of rain;_

 _The very first love that ever I had_

 _In greenwood he was slain._

 _I'll do as much for my sweetheart_

 _An any young woman may;_

 _I'll sit and mourn at his graveside_

 _A twelve-month and a day."_

"By the Angel, she's depressing," said Henry, setting down his newspaper directly on his plate and causing the edge to soak through with egg yolk. Charlotte opened her mouth as if to object, and closed it again. "It's all heartbreak, death, and unrequited love."

"Well, that is what most songs are about," said Will. "Requited love is ideal but doesn't make much of a ballad." Jem looked at Will a little critically. There was just the smallest hint of bitterness in his voice. Will had never been in love, as far as Jem could remember. Unless it was some barmaid he met on his nighttime ramblings. _Stranger things have happened,_ he thought, still stunned sometimes that Tessa loved him, had agreed to marry him.

Before he could say anything, a great reverberation sounded through the Institute; the sound of the doorbell. They all looked down the table at the same time at Charlotte, as if their heads were mounted on springs.

Charlotte, looking startled, put down her fork. "Oh, dear," she said. "There is something I had meant to tell you all, but—"

"Ma'am?" It was Sophie, drifting into the room with a salver in one hand. "Consul Wayland is downstairs requesting to speak with you."

Charlotte took the folded paper off the salver, gazed at it, sighed, and said, "Very well. Send him up."

Sophie vanished in a swirl of skirts.

"Charlotte?" Henry sounded puzzled. "What is going on?"

"Indeed." Will let his cutlery clatter onto his plate. "The Consul? Breaking up our breakfast time? Whatever next? The Inquisitor over for tea? Picnics with the Silent Brothers?" _Typical Will, to be so blasé at a time like this. It must be something more serious than a social call at this time. Jem couldn't help join in the fun, though. Things had been serious enough for the past couple days._

"Duck pies in the park," he said under his breath, and he and Will smiled at each other, just a flash, before the door opened and the Consul swept in.

Consul Wayland was a big man, broad-chested and thick-armed, and the robes of the Consul's status always seemed to hang a bit awkwardly from his wide shoulders. He was blond bearded like a Viking, and at the moment his expression was stormy. "Charlotte," he said without preamble. "I am here to talk to you about Benedict Lightwood."

There was a faint rustling; Gabriel's fingers had clenched on the tablecloth. Gideon put a hand lightly over his brother's wrist, stilling him, but the Consul was already looking at them. "Gabriel," he said. "I had rather thought you might go to the Blackthorns' with your sister."

Gabriel's fingers tightened on the handle of his teacup. "They are quite overset in their grief for Rupert," he said. "I did not think now was the time to intrude."

"Well, you are grieving your father, are you not?" said the Consul. "Grief shared is grief lessened, they say."

"Consul—," Gideon began, shooting a worried look at his brother.

"Though perhaps it might be rather awkward to lodge with your sister, considering that she has brought a complaint against you for murder."

Gabriel made a noise as if someone had spilled boiling water over him. Gideon threw his napkin down and stood up.

"Tatiana did _what?_ " he demanded.

"You a heard me," the Consul said. Jem couldn't stand for this. Gabriel had made mistakes, but he didn't deserve this.

"It was not murder," he said.

"As you say," said the Consul. "I was informed that it was."

"Were you also _informed_ that Benedict had turned into a gigantic worm?" Will inquired, and Gabriel looked at him in surprise, as if he had not expected to be defended by Will. _Of course, he wouldn't. They had been at each other's throats for years._

"Will, please," Charlotte said. "Consul, I notified you yesterday that Benedict Lightwood had been discovered to be in the last stages of _astriola_ —"

"You told me there was a battle, and he was killed," the Consul replied. "But what I am hearing reported is that he was ill with the pox, and that as a result he was hunted down and killed despite offering no resistance."

Will, his eyes suspiciously bright, opened his mouth. _Oh, no you don't Will! Not with the Consul!_ Jem reached out and clapped a hand over it. "I cannot understand," he said, talking over Will's muffled protests, "how you could know that Benedict Lightwood is dead but not the manner of his death. If there was no body to find, it was because he had become more demon than human, and had vanished when slain, as demons do. But the missing servants—the death of Tatiana's _own_ _husband_ —"

The Consul looked weary. "Tatiana Blackthorn says that a group of Shadowhunters from the Institute murdered her father and that Rupert was killed in the brawl." _Does that girl have a lick of sense in that head of hers?!?_

"Did she mention that her father had eaten her husband?" Henry inquired, finally looking up from his newspaper. "Oh, yes. Ate him. Left his bloody boot in the garden for us to find. There were teeth marks. Love to know how that could have been an accident." _Bravo, Henry!_ Jem wanted to laugh out loud, but didn't dare.

"I would think that counted as offering resistance," Will said. "Eating one's son-in-law, that is. Though I suppose everyone has their family altercations."

"You are not seriously suggesting," Charlotte said, "that the worm—that Benedict should have been subdued and restrained, are you, Josiah? He was in the last stages of the pox! He had gone mad and become a worm!"

"He could have become a worm and _then_ gone mad," Will said diplomatically. "We cannot be entirely sure." Jem wanted to laugh again.

"Tatiana is greatly upset," the Consul said. _Of course she is!_ Jem barely resisted rolling his eyes. "She is considering demanding reparations—"

"Then I will pay them." It was Gabriel, having pushed his chair back from the table and risen to his feet. "I will give my ridiculous sister my salary for the rest of my life if she desires it, but I will _not_ admit to wrongdoing—not for myself, not for any of us. Yes, I put an arrow through his eye. _Its_ eye. And I would do it again. Whatever that thing was, it was not my father anymore."

There was a silence. Even the Consul did not seem to have a ready word to hand. _Will's not making any sarcastic remark either. That's strange._ Cecily had put her book down and was looking intently from Gabriel to the Consul and back again.

"I beg your pardon, Consul, but whatever Tatiana is telling you, she does not know the truth of the situation," said Gabriel. "Only I was I was there in the house as he sickened. I was alone with him as he was going mad for the past fortnight. Finally I came here; I begged for my brother's help," Gabriel said. "Charlotte kindly lent me the assistance of her Shadowhunters. By the time we had arrived back at the house, the thing that had been my father had torn my sister's husband apart. I assure you, Consul, there was no manner in which my father could have been saved. We were in a fight for our lives."

"Then why would Tatiana—"

"Because she is humiliated," Tessa said. It was the first words she had spoken since the Consul had entered the room. "She said as much to me. She believed it would be a blight on the family name if the demon pox was known of; I assume she is trying to present some kind of alternate narrative in the hopes you will repeat it to the Council. But she is not telling the truth." Jem was proud she wasn't afraid to speak up before the Consul, that she would dare to say a Shadowhunter was lying when she knew she was looked down upon. His heart swelled with even more love, if it was possible.

"Really, Consul," said Gideon. "What makes more sense? That we all ran mad and killed my father, and his sons are covering it up, or that Tatiana is lying? She never thinks things through; you know that."

...The Lightwood brothers leave with Consul Wayland for the Silent City (not really) and he takes all of Benedict Lightwood's papers and journals...

No sooner had the door closed behind him than Will hissed: "How could you give him those papers? We need those—"

Charlotte, who had sagged back in her chair, her eyes half-closed, said, "Will, I have already been up all night copying down the relevant parts. Much of it was—"

"Gibberish?" Jem suggested. _Most likely ravings of a mad man._ He didn't think there would be much that was truly useful.

"Pornographic?" said Will at the same time.

"Could be both," said Will. "Haven't you ever heard of pornographic gibberish before?" _Oh, by the Angel!_

Jem grinned, he couldn't help it, and Charlotte put her face in her hands. "It was more the former than the latter, if you must know," she said. "I copied down all I could, with Sophie's invaluable assistance." She looked up then. "Will—you need to remember. This is no longer our charge. Mortmain is the Clave's problem, or at least that is how they see it. There was a time when we were singularly responsible for Mortmain, but—"

"We are responsible for protecting Tessa!" Will said with a sharpness that startled even Jem. He was grateful Will was so protective of Tessa, as he knew everyone in the Institute was, but Will's concern meant more. Jem had no doubt their _parabatai_ bond meant that Will would look after Tessa when he was no longer able to. He realized then that it would more than likely happen sooner than any of them thought. Especially now there was the problem of the _yin fen_ shortage.

Will paled slightly, everyone had looked at him, but he went on anyway: "Mortmain wants Tessa, still. We cannot imagine he has given up. He may come with automatons, he may come with witchcraft and fire and betrayal, but _he will come._ "

"Of course we will protect her," Charlotte said. "We need no reminders, Will. She is one of our own." There was a fresh wave of affection Jem felt for Charlotte at that moment. He knew Charlotte, Henry and Sophie all cared very much for Tessa. It did not matter that they were uncertain of what kind of Downworlder she was, that she was not a Shadowhunter, they had come to love and accept her all the same. "And speaking of our own..." She glanced down at her plate. "Jessamine returns to us tomorrow." _What?!?_

Will said out loud what Jem's mind had just screamed out. "What?" Will upset his teacup, soaking the tablecloth with the dregs. There was a buzz around the table, though Cecily only stared in puzzlement, not knowing of course why this would cause this type of reaction. Jem noticed that after a sharp intake of breath, Tessa had stayed silent. He knew exactly where her thoughts had gone; they had been together to see Jessamine, in the Silent City, pale and red-eyed, weeping and terrified... "She tried to betray us, Charlotte. And you are simply allowing her back?"

"She has no other family, her wealth has been confiscated by the Clave, and she is besides in no fit state to live on her own. Two months of questioning in the Bone City has left her nearly mad. I do not think she will be a danger to any of us." _Hah!_

"Neither did we think she would be a danger before," said Jem, in a harder voice usually expected from him, "and yet the course of action she took nearly placed Tessa in Mortmain's hands, and the rest of us in disgrace." Jem was normally the forgiving type, but on this instance, as it involved Tessa, he was not sure he would ever forgive Jessamine for her betrayal. A betrayal instigated by Nathaniel Gray. He would never forgive him either, for all his treachery, but most of all for breaking Tessa's heart.

Charlotte shook her head. "There is a need here for mercy and pity. Jessamine is not what she once was—as any of you would know if you had visited her in the Silent City." Jem hadn't been able to bring himself to go. He was too angry. He knew Tessa had not gone because she felt more guilt than anything else. It was her brother who had led Jessamine down that dark path, and because of Tessa, and Mortmain wanting her, Jessamine would feel that Tessa was the reason her life was now ruined. It was a completely ridiculous notion, but Jessamine had never truly been reasonable, she was much like Tatiana Blackthorn, in that regard. It saddened him, but not enough to pardon her crimes against them, for Jem felt it personally. He had truly tried, in vain it turns out, to be her friend.

"I have no wish to visit with traitors," Will said coldly. "Was she still gibbering about Mortmain being in Idris?"

"Yes—that is why the Silent Brothers finally gave up; they could get no sense out of her. She has no secrets, nothing of worth that she knows. And she understands that. She _feels_ worthless. If you could but put yourself in her shoes—" _I wonder if there is any honest regret or remorse, or all self-pity?_ Jem thought to himself.

"Oh, I don't doubt she's putting on a show for you, Charlotte, weeping and rending her garments—" It seemed Will thought much the same as Jem did.

"Well, if she's rending her _garments_ ," said Jem, with a flick of a smile toward his _parabatai_. "You know how much Jessamine likes her garments." The humor of Will's comment was exactly what everyone at the table needed. Something to lighten the mood, break the tension and seriousness of the last half hour or so.

Will's smile back was grudging but real. Charlotte saw her opening and pressed the advantage. "You will not even know her when you see her, I promise you that," she said. "Give it a week, a week only, and if none of you can bear to have her here, I will arrange for her transport to Idris." She pushed her plate away. "And now to go through my copies of Benedict's papers. Who will asssist me?"

Chapter resumes as written in the book*


	7. Dare To Wish

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices**

Dare To Wish

Tessa—

Tessa was glad when Sophie came to her room informing her that Charlotte wanted everyone in the drawing room. She had _tried_ to read since breakfast, but she hadn't gotten much reading done. She honestly wouldn't be able to tell you what she'd read if someone asked her, couldn't even remember what book she was supposed to be reading. Her mind had been elsewhere, where it usually was these days; Jem and Will. Until last night when Woolsey Scott had made her finally admit the truth of how she loved them both, she thought she'd be able to deny it until enough time had passed that she no longer remembered a Shadowhunter by the name of William Herondale. She laughed at the irony of it. If she were truly immortal, as they suspected, she knew she would never forget the raven-haired, blue-eyed Shadowhunter who had rescued her from the Dark House and the clutches of the Dark Sisters and then eventually Mortmain, the _Magister_. It was laughable that she thought she could. No matter how much she loved Jem, and she did, a part of her heart would always belong to Will Herondale. It had been a very welcome relief when the knock on her door sounded.

Jem—

Everyone was gathering in the drawing room. Charlotte had sent Sophie to summon them all for some unknown reason. Jem pondered this as he watched Will walk in, Cecily beside him. Charlotte was seated behind her desk, Henry leaning against it. Gideon sat in an armchair, Gabriel leaning against the chair. His eyes were bright, his body tense as a coiled spring. On the dark velvet sofa just across from the Lightwoods, Jem sat, with Tessa beside him. He looked up as the door opened and he brightened when he saw Will and Cecily come in. He always felt more cheerful when Will was around. He doubted it was only their _parabatai_ bond that made it so.

Tessa laid her hand over his and quietly remarked how adorable it was that Will always walked into a room before Cecily, as if he were protecting her from the potential danger a new location could offer, even if it happened to be a room in the Institute. She was correct and it made him smile. She then looked quickly to Will, but he only crossed the room as he always did to lean against the fireplace mantel. Jem knew it wasn't for the warmth of the fire or that he thought he looked dashing standing before the leaping flames, but because it was habit. A habit formed during his years when he thought he was under Marbas's curse. It was a way for him to separate himself from the group, but still be a part of the conversation when he chose to be. Some habits were hard to break. And maybe there _was_ a small chance that Will felt he looked dashing before the flames. Jem chuckled inwardly at his _parabatai_.

Charlotte's voice snapped Jem from his thoughts. "I'm glad you're all here," she said in a strained voice. Charlotte was looking gravely down at a polished salver on her desk, on which was an opened letter and a small packet wrapped in waxed paper. "I have received a disturbing piece of correspondence. From the Magister." Jem tensed. _What, in the name of the Angel, could Mortmain be writing to Charlotte about_. Then, with a sinking feeling, he realized what it must be about; _yin fen._

"From _Mortmain_?" Tessa leaned forward, and the clockwork angel she always wore around her neck swung free, glittering in the light from the fire. "He _wrote_ to you?"

"Not to inquire about your health, one presumes," said Will. "What does he want?"

Charlotte took a deep breath. "I will read you the letter."

 _My Dear Mrs. Branwell,_

 _Forgive me for troubling you at what must be a distressing time for your household. I was grieved, though I must confess not shocked, to hear of Mr. Carstair's grave indisposition._

 _I believe you are aware that I am the happy possessor of a large—I might say exclusively large—portion of the medicine that Mr. Carstairs requires for his continued well-being._ Jem tensed further and felt Tessa tense beside him. _Thus we find ourselves in a most interesting situation, which I am eager to resolve to the satisfaction of us both. I would be very glad to make an exchange: If you are willing to confide Miss Gray to my keeping, I will place a large portion of_ yin fen _in yours._

 _I send a token of my goodwill. Pray let me know your decision by writing to me. If the correct sequence of numbers that are printed at the bottom of this letter, are spoken to my automaton, I am sure to receive it._

 _Yours, sincerely,_

 _Axel Mortmain_

"That is all," Charlotte said, folding the letter in half and placing it back on the salver. "There are instructions on how to summon the automation to which he wishes to give us his answer, and there are the numbers he speaks of, but they give no clue as to his location."

There was a shocked silence. Will looked away from everyone and Jem paled, his face turning the color of old ash, and Tessa—Tessa sat very still, the light from the fire chasing shadows across her face. Jem dreaded what he knew was coming next.

"Mortmain wants _me_ ," she said finally, breaking the silence. "In exchange for Jem's _yin fen._ " _Better not let her think this is an option before she becomes unreasonable,_ he thought. She could be quite as stubborn as Will when she wanted to be, but Jem would not let her this time.

"It is ridiculous," he said. "Untenable. The letter should be given to the Clave to see if they can discern anything about his location from it, but that is all." Jem silently prayed to the Angel that he would not meet much resistance, but that would be too easy. And life was never that easy, was it?

"They will not be able to discern anything about his location from it," said WIll quietly. "The Magister has proved himself over and over too clever for that."

"This is not clever," said Jem. "This is the crudest form of blackmail—" Jem was disgusted with Mortmain and his underhanded tactics. But he supposed he shouldn't be surprised, really.

"I do not disagree," Will interrupted. "I say we take the packet as a blessing, a handful more of _yin fen_ that will help you, and we ignore the rest." _Oh, Will, if only it was going to be that simple._

"Mortmain wrote the letter about me," Tessa said, interrupting them both. "The decision should be mine." Jem groaned internally as she angled her body toward Charlotte. "I will go."

There was another dead silence. Charlotte looked ashen; Cecily's hands twisted in her lap. The Lightwood brothers seemed desperately uncomfortable. Gabriel looked as if he wished he were anywhere else but there. The tension between Will, Jem, and Tessa felt like a powder keg that needed only a match to blow it to kingdom come.

"No," Jem said finally, rising to his feet. "Tessa, you cannot."

She followed his motion, rising as well. "I can. You are my fiancé. I cannot allow you to die when I might help you, and Mortmain does not mean me physical harm—" There was a shout before Tessa could finish or Jem could interrupt her.

"We do not know what he means! He cannot be trusted!" Will said suddenly, and then he put his head down, his hand gripping the mantel so hard that his fingers were white. Jem could tell he was forcing himself to be silent.

"If it were you Mortmain wanted, Will, you would go," said Tessa, looking at him with a meaning in her eyes that brooked no contradiction. Will flinched at her words.

"No," Jem said. "I would forbid him as well." _As if I could actually forbid Will from doing something!_

Tessa turned to Jem with the first expression of anger toward him he had ever seen on her face. _Uh oh..._ "You cannot forbid me—any more than you could Will—"

"I can. For a very simple reason. The drug is not a _cure_ , Tessa. It only extends my living. I will not allow you to throw away your own life for a remnant of mine." _I love you too much!_ "If you go to Mortmain, it will be for nothing. I still won't take the drug."

Will lifted his head. "James—" For one of the first times in his life, Jem ignored his _parabatai_. It was as if a battle of wills was happening between him and Tessa.

Tessa and Jem were staring at each other, eyes locked. "You would not," Tessa breathed. "You would not insult me by hurling a sacrifice I made for you back in my face like that." He understood she meant well, that she did this because she loved him, but Tessa couldn't see that it would kill him faster than the _yin fen,_ shortage or no shortage, could if she went to Mortmain for him. _How can I make her understand?_

Jem strode across the room and seized the packet—and the letter—off Charlotte's desk. "I would rather insult you than lose you," he said, and before any of them could make a move to stop him, he cast both items into the fire. _There, it is done!_ This time it was Jem who should've known it wouldn't be that simple.

The room erupted in shouts. Henry dashed forward, but Will had already dropped to his knees before the grate and thrust both his hands into the flames. Cecily bolted out of her chair. " _Will!"_ she shouted, and darted over to her brother. She seized him by the shoulders of his jacket and pulled him away from the fire. He tumbled backward, the still-burning packet falling from his hands. Gideon was there a moment later, stamping out the small flames with his feet, leaving a mess of burned paper and silvery powder on the rug.

Everyone stared into the grate. The letter with the instructions telling how to summon Mortmain's automation was gone, burned into ashes.

"Will," Jem said. He was sick. He fell to his knees next to Cecily, still holding her brother's shoulders, and drew a stele from his jacket. Will's hands were scarlet, livid white where blisters were already forming on the skin, and the patched black with soot. His breath was hitching and harsh—gasps of pain escaping from him. _"Byddwch yn iawn, Will,"_ Cecily said as Jem put the stele to Will's forearm and drew quickly. "You'll be all right."

"Will," Jem said, half under his breath. "Will, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Will—"

Will's hitching breaths were slowing as the _iratze_ took effect, his skin paling back to its normal color. "There's still some _yin fen_ that can be preserved," Will said, slumping back against Cecily. He smelled like smoke and iron. "It had better be gathered up before anything else—"

"Here." It was Tessa, kneeling down; everyone else was standing, Charlotte with one hand over her mouth in shock. In Tessa's right hand was a handkerchief, in which was perhaps half a handful of _yin fen_ , all that Will had saved from the fire. "Take this," she said, and put it in Jem's free hand, the one that did not hold the stele. He was about to speak to her, but she had already straightened up. Feeling utterly shattered, Jem watched as she walked from the room. _By the Angel, what did I just do?_

"Oh, Will. Whatever are we going to do with you?"

Will sat in a flowered armchair in the drawing room, letting Charlotte, perched on a small stool before him, smear salve on his hands. They had returned to the normal color after three _iratzes,_ but Charlotte insisted on treating them anyway. _She's going to be such a good mother,_ Jem thought with affection. He couldn't have asked for a better mother figure when he came to the Institute an orphan all those years ago.

The others had gone, save for Cecily and himself; Cecily sat beside Will, perched on the arm of his chair, and Jem knelt on the burned rug, his stele still in his hands, not touching Will but close. They had refused to leave, even after the others had drifted away and Charlotte had sent Henry back to the cellar to work. There was nothing more to be done, after all. The instructions on how to contact Mortmain were gone, burned to ash, and there was no more decisions to be made.

 _At least Tessa no longer has the means to go to Mortmain._ The thought, however, brought him little comfort. He'd never forget the look on her face before she walked out of the room. He wanted to go to her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, yet. Will was already healing, there would be no lasting damage, so there was no physical need for Jem to be there, as he'd already applied the _iratzes._ He was just being a coward.

Charlotte had insisted that Will stay and have his hands salved, and Cecily and Jem had refused to leave him. Jem knew that Will liked it, liked having his sister there on the arm of his chair, liked the fiercely protective glares she shot at anyone who came near him, even Charlotte, sweet and harmless with her salve and her motherly clucking. And Jem, at Will's feet, leaning a bit against his chair, as he had so many times when WIll was being bandaged up from fights or _iratzed_ because of wounds he'd gotten in battle.

"Do you remember the time Meliorn tried to knock your teeth out for calling him a pointy-eared layabout?" Jem said. He had taken some of the _yin fen_ Mortmain had sent, and there was color in his cheeks again.

Will smiled, despite everything. "I would have knocked his teeth out in return," Will said, "but when I went to find him again, he had emigrated to America. To avoid my wrath, no doubt." Jem chuckled.

"Hmph," said Charlotte, the way she always did when she thought Will was getting above himself, which was often, Jem thought with amusement. "He had many enemies in London, to my understanding."

Cecily touched Will's fingers, which looked quite normal now, aside from the soot under his fingernails. "It is quite astonishing," she said, then patted his hands lightly, careful not to smear the salve. "Will has always been prone to damaging himself," she added, Jem could hear the fondness in her tone. "I cannot count the broken limbs he sustained when we were children—the scratches, the scars."

Jem leaned closer against the chair, staring into the fire. "Better it were my hands," he said.

Will shook his head."No. Not your hands. You need your hands for the violin. What do I need mine for?"

"I should have known what you would do," Jem said in a low voice. "I always know what you will do. I should have known you would put your hands into the fire." He'd been so concerned about stopping Tessa from going that he'd not even considered Will and what he would do, and Jem felt terrible. _He's my_ parabatai _, for the Angel's sake!_ Once again, the thoughts and actions of Will had been pushed aside to where Tessa was his only concern. He felt torn in his loyalties, of who should come first, his _parabatai_ or his fiancée? He wasn't entirely certain how he was going to keep the balance.

"And I should have known you would throw that packet away," Will said, without rancor. "It was—it was a madly noble thing to do. I understand why you did it."

"I was thinking of Tessa." Jem drew his knees up and rested his chin on them, then laughed softly. "Madly noble. Isn't that meant to be your area of expertise? Suddenly I am the one who does ridiculous things and you tell me to stop?"

"God," said Will. "When did we change places? Jem wanted to laugh at the irony of it.

The firelight played over Jem's face and hair as he shook his head. "It is a very strange thing, to be in love," he said. "It changes you." _It has certainly changed me!_

"I wish you wouldn't risk yourself," Will said.

Jem stood up, it was time to make things right with Tessa. "I have always wished that about you."

Will raised his eyes, drowsy with sleep and tiredness that came with healing runes."Are you going?"

"Yes, to sleep." Jem touched his fingers lightly to Will's healing hands. "Let yourself rest, Will."

Will's eyes were already drifting closed, even as Jem turned to go. He had an idea forming in his mind and he wanted to set it in motion before it got any later. He only hoped it was enough to heal the rift that had formed between him and Tessa today.


	8. That Fire of Fire

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare

 **That Fire of Fire**

 _You call it hope—that fire of fire!_

 _It is but agony of desire._

—Edgar Allan Poe, "Tamerlane"

Tessa—

Tessa sat at her vanity table methodically brushing out her hair. The air outside was cool but humid, seeming to trap the water of the Thames, scented with iron and city dirt. It was the sort of weather that made her normally thick, wavy hair tangle at the ends, usually annoying her. Not that her mind was on her hair; it was simply a repetitive motion, the brushing, that allowed her to keep a sort of forcible calm.

Over and over in her mind she saw Jem's shock as Charlotte read out Mortmain's letter, and Will's burned hands, and the tiny bit of _yin fen_ she had managed to gather up off the floor. She saw Cecily's arms about Will, and Jem's anguish as he apologized to Will, _I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry._

She hadn't been able to bear it. They had been in agony, both of them, and she loved them both. Their pain had been because of her— _she_ was what Mortmain wanted. She was the cause of Jem's _yin fen_ being gone, and Will's misery. When she had whirled and run out of the room, it had been because she could not stand it any longer. How could three people who cared for one another so much cause one another so much pain?

She set the hairbrush down and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired, with shadowed eyes, as Willl had looked all day as he'd sat with her in the library and helped Charlotte with Benedict's papers, translating some of the passages that were in Greek or Latin or Purgatic, his quill pen moving swiftly over paper, his dark head bent. It was odd to look at Will in the daylight and remember the boy who had held her as if she were a life raft in a storm on the steps of Woolsey's house. Will's daylight face was not untroubled, but it was not open or giving either. He had not been unfriendly or cold, but neither had he looked up, or smiled over the library table at her, or acknowledged in any way the events of the previous night. In a way, she knew she had no right to expect differently, or to be disappointed.

She wanted to pull him aside and ask him if he had heard from Magnus, to say to him: _No one understands what you feel but me, and no one understands what I feel but you, so can we not feel together?_ But if Magnus had contacted him, Will would have told her; he was honorable. They were all honorable. If they had not been, she thought, looking down at her hands, perhaps everything would not be so awful.

It had been foolish to offer to go to Mortmain—she knew that now—but the thought had seized her as fiercely as a passion. She could _not_ be the cause of all this unhappiness and not do something to alleviate it. If she gave herself up to Mortmain, Jem would live longer, and Jem and Will would have each other, and it would be as if she had never come to the Institute.

But now, in the cold hours of the evening, she knew that nothing she could do would turn back the clock, or unmake the feelings that existed between them all. She felt hollow inside, as if a piece of her were missing, and yet she was paralyzed. Part of her wanted to run to Will, to see if his hands were healed and to tell him she understood. The rest of her wanted to flee across the hall to Jem's room and beg him to forgive her. They had never been angry with each other before, and she did not know how to navigate a Jem who was furious. Would he want to end their engagement? Would he be disappointed in her? Somehow that thought was as hard to bear, that Jem might be disappointed in her.

 _"Don't break his heart."_ The words Sophie had spoken to her all those weeks ago echoed in her mind. Had she? She'd rather break her own, and she had partially broken hers, than break Jem's. He was the last person in the entire world who deserved to have his heart broken. She prayed to the

Angel, though it was not _her_ Angel to pray to, that she had not. She wanted to talk to Jem, but she did not think tonight was the best time to talk. Maybe she could go to him before breakfast? She did not like the thought of not having settled things between them before facing everyone else.

 _Skritch._ She looked up and around the room—a faint noise. Perhaps she had imagined it? She was tired; perhaps it was time to call for Sophie to help her with her dress, and then retire to bed with a book. She was partway through _The Castle of Otranto_ and finding it an excellent distraction. _And I definitely need a distraction tonight._

She had raised from her chair and gone to ring the servants' bell when the noise came again, more determined. A _skritch, skritch,_ against the door of her bedroom. _What in the world?_ she thought. With slight trepidation she crossed the room and flung the door open.

Church crouched on the other side, his blue-gray fur ruffled, his expression furious. _Typical Church,_ the humor lifting her gloomy mood a little. Around his neck was tied a bow of silver lace, and attached to the bow was a small piece of rolled paper, like a tiny scroll. Tessa dropped to her knees, reached for the bow, and untied it. The bow fell away, and the cat immediately bolted down the hall. _Probably to find someone to bite._ The thought making her smile again.

The paper came free of the lace, and Tessa picked up the paper and unrolled it. Familiar looping script traced its way across the page.

 _Meet me in the music room._

 _—J_

 _...Sophie finds Gideon and Gabriel reading through Charlotte's letters and agrees not to tell Charlotte and to also post their fake letter to the Consul..._

Jem—

Jem had gone to the music room after putting his plan into action. Church had not been happy to help, but Jem had given him no choice. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the look of betrayal on the cat's face as he tied the silver lace into a bow around his neck. He looked like he wanted to bite Jem, for the first time, but he hadn't and Jem was grateful. He hadn't the patience to deal with an injury, even one as small as a cat bite would be.

The room was not as dusty as it was the last time he'd been in there—it looked as if it had received a good cleaning recently; the mellow wood of the windowsills and floors shone, as did the grand piano in the corner. A fire was leaping in the grate, outlining Jem in fire as he turned away from it and, seeing her, smiled a nervous smile. He was grateful Sophie was so good at her tasks and took them so seriously. Despite that it was not truly important in the overall scheme of things, he was glad the music room was clean and didn't smell of must.

Everything in the room seemed soft, as muted as watercolor—the light of the fire bringing the white-sheeted instruments to life like ghosts, the dark gleam of the piano, the flames a dim reflected gold in the windowpanes. He could see him and Tessa too, facing each other: a girl in a dark blue evening dress, and a thin rake of a boy with a mop of silvery hair, his black jacket hanging just slightly too loose on his shoulders.

His face in the shadows was all vulnerability, anxiety in the soft curve of his mouth. "I was not sure that you would come." He was immensely relieved that she had. He thought that maybe she would be too angry to see him tonight. He knew he had much to make up for.

At that, she took a step forward, seeming as if she were about to fling her arms about him, but she stopped herself. He wished she hadn't. She spoke before he could. "Of course I came," she said. "Jem, I am so sorry. So very sorry. I cannot explain—it was a sort of madness. I could not bear the thought that harm would come to you because of me, because in some way I am connected to Mortmain, and he to me."

"That is not your fault. It was never your choice—" Tessa rushed on.

"I was not seeing sense. Will was right; Mortmain cannot be trusted. Even if I went to him, there is no guarantee that he would honor his end of the bargain. And I would be placing a weapon in the hands of your enemy. I do not know what he wants to use me for, but it is not for the good of Shadowhunters; of that we can be sure. I could even in the end yet be what hurts you all." Jem could see tears in her eyes, but she held them back. By force, no doubt. His heart ached for her. "Forgive me, Jem. We cannot waste the time we have together in anger. I understand why you did what you did—I would have done it for you." _Oh, Tessa. How I love you!_

His eyes went soft and silver as she spoke. _"Zhe shi jie shang, wo shi zui ai ne de,"_ he whispered. He knew she understood it. _In all the world, you are what I love the most._

"Jem—" _She had to know, didn't she???_

"You know that; you must know that. I could never let you go away from me, not into danger, not while I have breath." He held his hand up, before she could take a step toward him. "Wait." He bent down, and when he rose, he was holding his square violin case and bow. "I—There was something I wished to give you. A bridal gift, when we were married. But I would like to give it to you now, if you will let me."

"A gift?" She said, wonderingly. "After—But we quarreled!"

Jem smiled at that. "An integral part of married life, I have been informed. It will have been good practice."

"But—"

"Tessa, did you imagine that there exists any quarrel, large or small, that could make me stop loving you?" He was amazed she could think so, knowing as she did about Will, of the years that Will had tested his loyalty, driven him mad with lies and evasion and self-harm, and through all of it his love for his blood brother had never frayed, much less broken.

"I was afraid," she said softly. "And I—I have no gift for you." _You've given me_ everything, _Tessa!_

"Yes, you do." He said it quietly but firmly. "Sit down, Tessa, please. Do you remember how we met?" _The night my life changed forever,_ Jem thought with happiness he never thought he would feel.

Tessa sat down on a low chair with gilded arms, her skirts crinkling around her. "I barged into your room in the middle of the night like a madwoman."

Jem grinned, he couldn't help it. "You glided _gracefully_ into my bedroom and found me playing the violin." He tightened the screw on the bow; he finished, set it down, and lovingly took his violin out of its case. "Would you mind if I play for you now?"

"You know I love to hear you play." Not only did she love to hear him play, Jem knew, she loved hearing him talk about the violin. He probably did it too often, now that he thought about it. She never seemed to mind though. She'd listened to him rattle on passionately for hours about rosin, pegs, scrolls, bowing, finger positions, and the tendency of A strings to break—without seeming to get bored.

 _"Wo wei ni xie de,"_ he said as he raised the violin to his left shoulder and tucked it under his chin. He had told her that many violinists used a shoulder rest, but he did not. He preferred to _feel_ the music as it vibrated through the violin. He knew there was a slight mark on the side of his throat, like a permanent bruise, where the violin rested.

"You—made something for me?"

"I _wrote_ something for you," he corrected with a smile, and began to play.

He began simply, softly, his grip light on the bow, producing a soft, harmonic sound. The melody rolled over them, as cool and sweet as water, as hopeful and lovely as sunrise. His fingers moved and an exquisite note rose from the violin. The sound deepened as the bow moved faster, Jem's forearm sawing back and forth. His fingers slid up and down slightly, and the pitch of the music deepened, thunderclouds gathering on a bright horizon, a river that had become a torrent. The notes crashed at their feet, rose to surround them; Jem's whole body seemed to be moving in tune with the sounds he wrung from the instrument, though his feet were firmly planted on the floor.

Jem's eyes were shut, the corners of his mouth downturned as if in pain, but he was concentrating, putting his very _soul_ into the notes, willing Tessa to see what he was playing. There was nothing to stop the music, the lovely sound of it. It was as if he had taken his bow and used it as a paintbrush, creating a canvas upon which his soul was clearly displayed. The last soaring notes reached higher and higher, climbing toward Heaven, then the last of the music faded away and he lowered the violin.

Slowly Jem put the violin back into its case and laid the bow beside it. He straightened and turned to her, praying to the Angel that she liked what he'd written. His expression was shy, though his white shirt was soaked through with sweat and the pulse in his neck was pounding.

Tessa didn't say anything.

"Did you like it?" he said. "I could have given you...jewelry, but I wanted it to be something that was wholly _yours._ That no one else would hear or own. And I am not good with words, so I wrote how I felt about you in music." He paused. "Did you like it?" he said again, and the soft dropping-off voice at the end of the question, indicating he expected to receive an answer in the negative.

Tessa raised her face and he could see the tears on it. "Jem." Jem's heart fell.

He dropped to his knees before her, his face all contrition. " _Ni jue de tong man, qin ai de?"_

"No—no," she said, half-crying, half-laughing. "I am not hurt. Not unhappy. Not at all." He felt a relief beyond measure.

A smile broke across his face, lighting his eyes with delight. "Then you did like it."

"It was like I saw your soul in the notes of the music. And it was beautiful." Tessa leaned forward and touched his face lightly, the smooth skin over his hard cheekbone, his hair like feathers against the back of her hand. "I saw rivers, boats like flowers, all the colors of the night sky." _By the Angel..._

Jem exhaled, sinking down onto the floor by her chair, the strength had gone out of him. He'd hoped, but he hadn't been sure if it would happen...

"That is a rare magic," he said. He leaned his head against her, his temple against her knee, and she kept up the stroking of his hair, carding her fingers through its softness. It felt wonderful. "Both my parents loved music," he said abruptly. "My father played the violin, my mother the _qin._ I chose the violin, though I could have learned either. I regretted it sometimes, for there are melodies of China I cannot play on the violin, that my mother would have liked me to know. She used to tell me the story of Yu Boya, who was a great player of the _qin._ He had a best friend, a woodcutter named Zhong Ziqi, and he would play for him. They say that when Yu Boya played a song of water, his friend would know immediately that he was describing rushing rivers, and when he played of mountains, Ziqi would see their peaks. And Yu Boya would say, 'It is because you understand my music.'" Jem looked down at his own hand, curled loosely on his knee. "People still use the expression ' _zhi yin'_ to mean 'close friends' or 'soul mates,' but what it really means is 'understanding music.'" He reached up and took her hand. "When I played, you saw what I saw. You understand my music."

"I don't know anything about music, Jem. I cannot tell a sonata from a partita—" She didn't understand.

"No." He turned, rising up onto his knees, bracing himself on the arms of her chair. "That is not the kind of music I mean. I mean—" He made a sound of frustration, caught at her hand, brought it to his chest, and pressed it flat over his heart. The steady beat hammered against her palm. "Every heart has its own melody," he said. "You know mine."

"What happened to them?" Tessa whispered. "The woodcutter and the musician?"

Jem's smile was sad. "Zhong Ziqi died, and Yu Boya played his last song over his friend's grave. Then he broke his _qin_ and never played again."

"What a terrible story."

"Is it?" Jem's heart skipped and stuttered under her fingers. "While he lived and they were friends, Yu Boya wrote some of the greatest music that we know. Would he have been able to do that alone? Our hearts, they need a mirror, Tessa. We see our better selves in the eyes of those who love us. And there is a beauty that brevity alone provides." He dropped his gaze, then raised it to hers. "I would give you everything of myself," he said. "I would give you more in two weeks than most men would give you in a lifetime."

"There is nothing you haven't given me, nothing I am dissatisfied with..."

"I am," he said. "I want to be married to you. I would wait for you forever, but..."

 _But we do not have forever._ "I have no family," Tessa said slowly, her eyes on his. "No guardian. No one who might be...offended...by a more immediate marriage." _Was she serious?_

His eyes widened slightly. "I—Do you mean that? I would not want you to not have all the time you require to prepare." _What am I saying?!? I'd marry her this very moment if we could!_

"What kind of preparation do you imagine I might require?" Tessa said.

"I don't know," Jem said, gazing up at her from the floor, his expression a mixture of hope and disbelief. "The Council has not yet approved our request...and you do not have a dress..." _Shut up, James! Who cares about the Council or what dress she wears!_ Tessa could wear training clothes for all he cared. He wanted to give her every opportunity to think through what she was offering though. Jem wanted to make sure Tessa was sure.

"I do not care about the Council. And I do not care what I wear, if you do not. If you mean it, Jem, I will marry you whenever you like."

"Tessa," he breathed. He reached for her as if he were drowning, and she ducked her head down to brush her lips against his. Jem raised himself up on his knees. His mouth ghosted across hers, once, twice, until her lips opened and he needed her closer. "You are too far away," he whispered, and then his arms were around her, and there was no space between them, and he was drawing her down off the chair, and they were kneeling together on the floor, their arms around each other.

He held her to him, and her hands traced the shape of his face, his sharp cheekbones. He needed to feel more of her.

His hands slid from her waist to her shoulders; his lips skimmed across her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, as her fingers twisted in his shirt, drawing it up so that her palms were against his bare skin.

 _I love you,_ he had said. _In all the world, you are what I love the most._

He pressed his hot mouth again at the hollow of her throat, then lower, becoming bolder with each kiss. His kisses ended where her dress began. He felt her heart beating beneath his mouth, as if trying to reach him, trying to beat for him. His shy hand slipped around her body, to where the lacings fastened her dress closed..."

The door opened with a creak, and they sprang apart, both gasping as if they had been running a race. Jem looked to the empty doorway. Jem's gasp turned into a hitch of laughter. Oh, b _y the Angel!_

"What—," she began.

"Church," he said, and they dropped their gazes down to see the cat sauntering across the floor of the music room, having nudged the door open, and looking very pleased with himself. Jem wanted to seize the cat and throw him from the room, cursing himself for not locking the door.

"I've never seen a cat look so self-satisfied," she said as Church—ignoring her, as always—padded up to Jem and nudged at him with his head. He couldn't stay mad at the poor cat.

"When I said we might need a chaperon, this wasn't what I had in mind," said Jem, but he stroked that cat's head anyway, and smiled at her out of the corner of his mouth. "Tessa," he said. "Did you mean what you said? That you would marry me tomorrow?"

She raised her chin and looked directly into his eyes. "I meant it," she said. His heart swelled with love and happiness.

 **I will be adding a huge section next and it will be a steamy night between Tessa and Jem. Mainly because I hate they had to wait over a century before they finally get their happily ever after. I just wanted them to be together before Jem becomes a Silent Brother. As I said in the summary, so no spoilers, this turns out exactly as it did in the book (Tessa with Will then Jem after the events in City of Heavenly Fire). I'll be going into detail with their night together, so if you don't like/want that, feel free to skip ahead. :)**


	9. That Fire of Fire Part II

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.**

That Fire of Fire Part II

Jem—

Jem was sitting on the floor leaning against the chair he had pulled Tessa down from some time ago. She was reclining back into his chest, his legs stretched out on either side of hers, his arms wrapped around her middle. Her arms were laying on top of his. Jem's chin resting on her shoulder during the occasional silent moments between conversations.

After Church had forced his way into the room, Jem hadn't dared to re-initiate what they had previously been engaged in. He kept thinking about it when they were quiet, though, the fire crackling in the grate the only sound. His thoughts juggled between remembering with pleasure and feeling shame at almost losing control, again. It did make Jem feel better after recalling telling Tessa they both _equally_ chose to do what they did after that night in his room. Tessa was just as willing a participant as he'd been, then _and_ now.

He was both thankful and aggravated that Church had interrupted them. It wasn't that he didn't want to continue, he did, but the music room was definitely _not_ the place for such an activity. What if it hadn't been the cat to come in? Jem would never want to embarrass himself and Tessa in that way. Especially Tessa. Plus, not to mention how wrong it would have been. Many Shadowhunter customs differed from the mundane, but it was generally expected for a bride to be virtuous. Of course, men had dalliances and mistresses, as many mundane men, and was still considered a scandal for an unmarried woman to become pregnant. There were, of course, measures against pregnancy and protections for disease, but Jem didn't even have any. He'd never had a need or thought he would until Tessa came into his life and accepted his marriage proposal.

His thoughts jolted to that night in the library so many months ago. Finding Tessa with the _Codex_ on her lap, her showing him the section on warlocks, and more specifically where it stated that warlocks were unable to have children. He would never forget the look of profound sadness in her eyes. He remembered she had said that she hadn't thought so far ahead in her life, children were still in the context of abstract for her. But Jem knew better, even then. Tessa may not have been wanting to have children for several years, she was still so young, but she would eventually. Jem had known then that given the opportunity, she would've been a wonderful mother.

He'd been having other thoughts lately, as well. Since the engagement had officially gone to the Clave for approval, marrying Tessa had become real, no longer just an idea. Jem had been wondering if he ought to talk to the Silent Brothers, find out if the _yin fen_ in his blood would adversely affect Tessa in any way. He was already shackling her to a dying, now a little faster, man, and the last thing he'd ever want to do is hurt her while taking his pleasure in what little time they had together. He mentally recoiled from the thought. It would be beyond selfish. He would be no better than Benedict Lightwood.

He'd also thought that it might be more prudent to abstain from sexual relations altogether, to completely avoid any complications. Obviously Jem had almost failed, again. Twice now Jem had been moments from losing all of his control. But that's what Tessa did to him, how much he loved her. It was still no excuse, he knew. Jem could only speculate as to what Tessa's reaction would be if he suggested it. She was obviously _willing,_ but they were both so young, passions overruling good sense. What would she think of a logical reason to refrain? Even Jem, usually so sensible and clear-headed, would object to the idea of abstaining while caught up in the moment. He wouldn't blame Tessa one bit if she wouldn't want to, but he was man enough to admit that the rejection, even if only for a perfectly sound reason, would still hurt.

Tessa shifted in Jem's arms, effectively pulling him from his thoughts, but not in time to hear what she said. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked apologetically.

She gave a small huff of amusement. "I said we should retire for the night. It has been a long, eventful day. We both need rest to prepare for the oncoming storm tomorrow morning will bring." Jem furrowed his brow.

"Oncoming storm?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, yes. The flurry of activity and exclamations, especially from Charlotte, when we announce we are moving the wedding date to sooner rather than later and without approval from the Clave." Jem realized what she meant.

"Ah, I see what you mean. As much as I love Charlotte, she can be a force to be reckoned with, especially for how tiny she is. So I greatly approve of your term. At the _very least,_ breakfast should be quite entertaining." Jem finished with a grin, earning a smile from Tessa in return. Tessa stood, held out her hand and simply said, "Come." He silently obeyed. They walked hand in hand toward the corridor of their rooms in comfortable silence.

The quiet allowed for Jem's thoughts to wander again. This time they were engaged in wondering if tonight would be the last night he would escort her to a separate bedroom, if they were able to manage to work out the details to _actually_ marry tomorrow. Jem heard Tessa give a quiet, but loud enough to get his attention, snort. He looked at her, questioning her with his eyes.

She grinned. "You didn't hear what I said again, did you?" Jem turned slightly pink in embarrassment. His thoughts had been _occupied_ elsewhere.

Jem looked sheepishly back at her. "Um...no." He waited, hoping she would repeat what she'd said. He didn't have to wait long.

"I asked if Shadowhunters go on honeymoons?" Jem wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear some hesitation in her voice.

"Oh, uh...not exactly."

"What does 'not exactly' mean?" He could hear the laughter in her tone.

"Well, sometimes a couple might visit family or friends at another Institute after the rune ceremony. They usually have some form or another of Clave or Enclave business to attend to though." Jem could just make out the muttered words _some honeymoon._ He smiled. "Plus," he continued, "There's always demon or Downworlder activity to investigate. However, I'm sure they're able to find a _little_ time to themselves." He went a little pink again.

Tessa chuckled. "That's not very romantic." He'd give her that. Shadowhunters weren't very romantic, as a whole. It just came down to the individual and his or her views on romance. "Although," she said thoughtfully, "I'm certain that there are some Shadowhunters who _do_ find demon attacks, investigations and Downworld business romantic." Her tone wry.

It was Jem's turn to laugh. "Yes, _terribly_ romantic." _This is why I love her,_ he thought. She could always find the humor, but not in a malicious way, in the seriousness of the Nephilim way of life. He felt it must be due to her mundane upbringing. They continued to walk in comfortable silence. His thoughts turned inward, wondering if he should even say what he was about to, when it would only serve to make them even more aware of a future they no longer had a hope of, no matter if it had only been a year or two, at most.

"Besides having smaller houses in Alicante, several families have larger country manors in Idris. I have heard of some couples taking a fortnight away, sometimes with no Clave business. So, I suppose that's as close to a honeymoon, in the mundane sense, we get to. Perhaps not as grand, however, it is still time alone," he finished.

They lapsed into silence once more. Tessa broke the quiet so softly Jem almost didn't hear what she said. "Does the Carstairs family have a country manor in Idris?" Jem could hear her fingers nervously pluck at her skirts.

"Yes. My uncle has possession of it."

"Could we go there?"

"I'm sure my uncle would be pleased for us to visit. I don't think he's spent much time there since my parents died. Besides, I'd love for you to see Idris. Especially Alicante! The Gard, the fountain in Angel Square, the great big demon towers of _adamas._ The towers, of course, are what Alicante gets its nickname, The City Of Glass, from." His tone had become more excited as he talked, but he lost some of the excitement as his thoughts became flustered. Describing sights of the Nephilim homeland didn't quite provoke images of a honeymoon, especially if going to Idris was for _alone_ time. Or maybe more importantly, the idea of _non-related_ Clave activities. He was sure Tessa wouldn't ask to go to Idris just to see Alicante or Angel Square. Jem flushed; he was glad Tessa was facing the same direction he was, couldn't see his face, as he was sure it was as red as a fire poker left in the fire.

Tessa turned to Jem and bestowed a look of half-amusement and half-exasperation upon him, which Jem noted was completely adorable. The look, though, left him in no doubt that Tessa would _not_ ask to go to Idris to see the sights like a tourist. Jem swallowed. Hard.

Eyes locked with Tessa's, Jem felt her pull him to her, heard the rustle of fabric from her dress brushing against his clothes. He couldn't move, waiting to see what she would do next. Tessa stopped when he was inches from her and they were in front of her door. "Oh, James," Tessa began in mock disappointment, "I truly thought you were more _perceptive_ than that!" She leaned forward to press her lips against his. Just a soft kiss, none of the fever from before.

Jem's senses were reeling from just her proximity and her soft kiss. It was enough though. She always was. He could feel and smell her all around him, completely engulfing him. He'd never felt anything like it. Not even from any of their previous kisses. Tessa was in his blood, more potent than the _yin fen._

Before he knew what he was doing or could think better of it, Jem was gently urging Tessa backward until her back was pressed against her bedroom door. Their bodies flush against each other, Jem's palms flat on the door, pinning her where she was. Tessa didn't seem to mind in the least. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again. They didn't break apart until they both had to come up for air. Jem pulled back a little. She looked so beautiful it made his heart ache. Neither moved nor spoke, both breathing heavily. Tessa's pupils were dialated and her lips were red and plumped from his kisses. He just barely heard a voice telling him to kiss her good night and go to his own room, but Jem couldn't bring himself to do it. All that mattered in that moment was how Tessa was pressed against him, her warm breath on his neck, her hands gripping the material of the back of his shirt.

He slowly leaned back in to kiss Tessa. Just the lightest brush of lips on lips, then pulled away just enough so that he could trace her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He felt her sharp intake of breath. It emboldened him that she didn't push him away. When Jem went to trace her lip again he met Tessa's tongue instead. He opened his mouth to gasp and Tessa took advantage, her tongue invading his mouth. It was hot, silky and smooth. He reveled in the sensation. Their tongues began a rhythmic dance and Jem was lost in the kiss. He barely felt one of her hands leave his back. It wasn't until he was suddenly stumbling into Tessa's room that he understood why she'd moved her hand.

Once inside her room Tessa took charge. She shut the door behind Jem and pulled him close to her again. Her arms went around his neck, his around her back. Their lips crashed together so hard it almost hurt. He didn't care though. He just pulled Tessa tighter against him while walking her backwards toward the bed. She stopped when her knees hit the side, then let go of him so she could climb onto the bed. Jem couldn't think, couldn't move. All he saw was Tessa in the middle of the big bed, waiting for him. That was what spurred him into action. That, and his body, which he was thankful wasn't too noticeable—yet. He climbed up next to her, settling down a bit nervously at her side.

Tessa—

Tessa could see Jem was nervous. So was she, but she didn't want to show it. She feared if she did then Jem would politely excuse himself to his room and she knew she very much did _not_ want that, not tonight. Jem couldn't ask her to leave this time as this was her room; that's why she chose to pull him inside, and she wouldn't be able to stand it if he left. She saw his hesitation and she began to fear he was going to leave when he settled himself next to her. Neither moved, only stared at each other.

They moved at the same time. This kiss was neither light nor painful, but heated and passionate. Tessa laid back, pulling Jem down on top of her, both stretching out on the bed. She kissed him long and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. She wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every sensation. She imagined this is what Heaven would feel like.

There was a small voice in the back of her mind telling her they should stop, it was way beyond propriety, and not to mention wrong as they were still unmarried. However, she couldn't bring herself to care. With the threat of Mortmain and the shortage of _yin fen,_ who knew how long they had and she didn't want to waste any of that time left to them. _No,_ Tessa thought, she most definitely did _not_ want to stop.

She gently urged him to pull away from her. When there was just enough space between their bodies, she slipped her hands in between and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. She could feel his too-thin chest heaving. As Tessa slowly worked on his shirt, Jem leaned his head down so that he could kiss her lower right jawline. It was _very_ distracting. From there, he brushed light kisses until he reached just under her earlobe. The combination of his warm breath and soft lips on that particular spot made her gasp. She arched her back, momentarily hindering her progress on his buttons. Noticing her reaction and stilled hands on his shirt, Jem grabbed the garment and quickly tugged it over his head, almost ripping the fabric.

He'd had to pull more away from her to do so and Tessa was afforded a generous view of his chest. He was much paler, as well as appearing even more delicate, than the last time Tessa had seen him without a shirt, but he was still just as beautiful. Like last time, feeling like she was touching something precious, which he was to her, Tessa lightly ran her hands over his chest. She felt Jem shudder at her touch.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked worriedly.

" _No,_ by the Angel, no!" Jem exclaimed.

 _Well, that definitely answers that question,_ Tessa thought with amusement. It gave her the confidence to say what she did next. "Good, because I'm going to need your help for you to return the favor." She grinned at Jem's perplexed expression.

She moved to sit up, tugging Jem up with her. She twisted so that her back was to him. Looking around at him she said, "Care to play ladies' maid?" Tessa hoped she was able to interject a little seduction into her voice. Jem's expression cleared immediately upon understanding and his face flushed deep crimson. He raised slightly shaking hands to her back, fumbling on the buttons at first. He had the nimble fingers of a Shadowhunter though, practiced in the arts of war, yet still so gentle and loving with his violin. He made quick work of the buttons. Tessa drug the sleeves and bodice down and off until it was lying limp around her waist. She was left in her corset and chemise covering her upper body. She heard Jem sputter behind her.

"I—I'm not really s-sure wh-what to do," Jem stammered. She chuckled. "Just pull on the strings." At first there was nothing and Tessa feared Jem had changed his mind, but then there was a hesitant tugging on the lacings. Once it was loosened enough she took the corset off and tossed it to the floor. She stood from the bed, turning back to face Jem, letting the fabric of her dress pool at her feet, leaving her only in her thin chemise. Jem sat completely still. She leaned over to take her shoes off. Without the corset she was sure that he could see a great deal of her décolletage. If he did, he didn't say a word, only watched. She straightened then propped her right leg onto the bed and lifted her chemise so she could reach where the garter held her stocking up. Slowly she untied the ribbon and rolled the silk down her leg until she could take it off. Jem bade her to stop when she went to repeat the action after exchanging feet on the bed. He moved forward so that he could stop her from lifting the chemise higher up her leg.

"Allow me," he whispered. Ever so slowly, Jem ran his hands from her thigh to the hemline, then slipped his hands underneath the material. His fingertips softly brushed the sensitive skin just above her stocking, making her shiver. He gingerly plucked at the garter string, barely allowing his fingertips to touch her as he pulled the stocking down her leg. _Oh, that's wonderful,_ she thought with a sigh, leaning her head back. Tessa heard Jem chuckle. _Did I say that aloud?_ She began to color in embarrassment before she realized that it didn't matter if she had. She was enjoying Jem's touch too much to truly care. Surely he would be pleased with her contented sigh and statement. She had _no_ idea just how right she was.


	10. That Fire of Fire Part III

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

That Fire of Fire Part III

Jem—

Jem was mesmerized by the sight of Tessa standing before him clad only in her chemise, stockings and shoes. He was in awe of her beauty. The garment was so thin to be almost transparent. Ever so slightly it hugged her generous, womanly curves, making his fingers itch to touch her, to run his hands over every dip, hollow, and valley he could find on her body. His mouth had gone dry when she had asked him to "play ladies' maid," but not he was practically drooling. He wanted to touch her badly, but was also afraid to move.

He didn't want to distract Tessa. She seemed to have a plan in mind and he didn't want to disrupt her. He nearly fainted when she leaned over to remove her shoes. The chemise gaped enough that he could see more of her décolletage, or any woman's for that matter, even Jessamine with her _fashionable_ dresses, than he'd ever seen before. Tessa either didn't notice or wasn't embarrassed. Jem felt it was because of the latter, just as he was no longer worried about her seeing his naked chest. Not after she'd told him he was beautiful all those weeks ago. He'd be lying if he didn't say that gave him a tremendous boost to his confidence.

Jem thought Tessa was joining him on the bed when she raised her leg, but she only placed a foot on the edge and lifted her chemise. He held his breath. She stopped when the hem was mid-thigh and began untying the strings holding her stocking up, then rolled it off. He realized he wanted to do that when Tessa switched legs. He wanted to feel her leg as he slid the silk stocking down her soft skin. Jem requested she stop while moving closer to her. Barely touching her, Jem slipped his hands underneath the chemise then pulled at her garter strings. Gently, so gently, he slid the stocking, letting his fingertips trail lightly, down her leg. " _Oh,_ that's wonderful," Tessa exclaimed breathily. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. Her head had been lowered back, but Jem saw her eyes snap open when he laughed. She must not have meant for Jem to hear her. Tessa relaxed again then sighed. He was practically giddy that he could make Tessa feel so good, to sigh in pleasure like that. It was all Jem wanted.

If Tessa reacted in such a manner at just touching her leg, Jem wondered what else he could elicit from her. He was determined to find out! Jem moved to the edge of the bed, put his feet on the floor with his legs wide enough apart that he could pull her between them. He was acutely aware of how tight his trousers were becoming, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He relied on his Shadowhunter mental prowess to ensure his need was not foremost on his mind. He would _not_ be like that! He wasn't completely naive. Of course, he'd tried talking to Henry but that had been a mistake. A _huge_ mistake! After much crimson faced sputtering and an explanation which hardly made any sense, Jem gave up, thanked a relieved looking Henry, exited the Crypt and left Henry to his work. For a reason Jem couldn't define or begin to understand, he didn't want to talk about this subject with Will. Luckily, he'd found much more helpful books stashed away in the library. He'd be forever grateful to whichever Shadowhunter before him had stowed them away. Also, some of the men and older boys talked amongst themselves at Council or Enclave meeting. He may not have had any input to add, but he listened, he remembered. He was using some of that talk as a guide now...

"Tessa," Jem murmured, cupping her face in his hands. " _My Tessa,"_ Jem whispered as he lowered his face and kissed her with a passion to rival their previous kisses. Tessa's only response was to twine her arms around his neck and to lean farther into him so that her chest was flush against his. Jem nearly groaned, plunging his hands into her soft hair. Without the stiff corset and the thin material of the chemise, he could _feel_ her breasts pressed close to his naked chest. Tessa allowed entry into her mouth when Jem touched her upper lip with the tip of his tongue. His hands drifted down to the middle of her back, crushing her to him, while invading her mouth, seeking to conquer. He hummed his pleasure in the back of his throat. Jem was pleased when Tessa shivered and he actually felt her nipples harden into stiff peaks. He did groan this time, leaning his head back. The loss of contact prompted Tessa to step away from him. He almost cried out in objection when she climbed back onto the bed and crawled under the covers. She held her hand out to him after she settled herself comfortably and softly said, "Come."

Jem didn't need telling twice. Faster than he thought possible, Jem removed his own shoes and stockings, then stood in place, debating whether he should remove his trousers now or later. He knew without a doubt they were going to make love and he would need to remove them at some point. It would certainly be more difficult under the covers, but he would wait, if need be. He neither wanted Tessa's discomfort, nor seem too eager. He _was_ eager, but at the same time didn't want Tessa to feel any pressure to rush. No, Jem fully intended to take his time, to savor this. He looked at her and saw her nod mutely. Jem couldn't say how, but he knew it was permission to remove them now. Jem divested himself of the last of his garments and quickly slipped beneath the covers beside her. She was on her back, he was lying on his left side, facing her. Before he could move, Tessa began wriggling and Jem saw movement under the covers. It puzzled him for a moment. The confusion cleared immediately when she lifted her back and raised her arms, the chemise joining their other discarded clothing on the floor.

His mind went completely blank for a few moments. Tessa was beside him, beside him _and_ naked, and so was he! He had half a mind to pinch himself to be certain this was real. His eyes roved over her pink face and elegant cream-colored neck and came to rest where the blanket stopped at the tops of her breasts. "Tessa, I—" Jem faltered. He wasn't sure what to say or do next. Pull her to him? Move atop her? That seemed awfully fast, though. He was saved from his indecision by Tessa. Rolling to face him, she brought her hand to his cheek. "Shhh, I know. All is well. Let's just go slow and do what feels natural." Jem nodded. He thought only for a second. It felt natural to kiss her so that's what he did. Once again tongue met tongue, this time in an unhurried rhythmic dance. Despite knowing where they were heading, Jem was still a little shy to touch her without any clothing. He was a gentleman and had never done this, after all! He knew he had to move first, however. She wouln't because she didn't want him to think her too forward, and besides, it was his turn to take control.

Jem scooted closer to Tessa, but not much. If he came too close, she would feel his arousal; he didn't want to scare her. Plus, he knew the first time for her would hurt. He wanted her ready for him to reduce the pain as much as possible. He'd heard stories of how to do so and prayed fervently to the Angel he could do it right. So as not to startle her, Jem slowly brought his right hand to her left collarbone before slowly moving lower to cover her breast. Cupping it gently, he let the weight of it rest in his palm.

Tessa—

Tessa gasped when Jem brought his hand to her breast. His hand was calloused, but not so rough to be uncomfortable. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling after getting over the unfamiliarness of it. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her already hardened nipple, causing it to stiffen further. "Oh, _Jem,"_ she moaned, bringing her lips to his again. They kissed feverishly all the while Jem fondled her breast, continuing to tease her nipple. The sensations of his hot mouth on hers and thumb rubbing over her nipple were extraordinary, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Tessa wanted it to continue forever. Jem had other ideas, however. He kissed along her jaw to just below her ear, then taking her earlobe in his mouth, bit down lightly. She shivered, becoming aware of an ache between her legs, but had no idea why or what it meant.

Jem trailed his tongue down her neck to the dip by her collarbone, then lower until he swirled his tongue around her areola before finally taking her nipple into his mouth. Arching her back, Tessa inhaled sharply. " _Ohhh._ " Jem switched to her right breast, but his hand came up again, unwilling to neglect the breast his mouth had just vacated. The dual sensations of his hungry mouth and hand on her breasts were wreaking havoc on her senses. She couldn't think, could barely breathe! Jem urged her on her back, all the while keeping up his minstrations on her body.

Still lying on his side with Tessa now on her back, Jem moved close enough that she could feel his arousal against her hip. Until this point, she'd only had verbal cues from him indicating his pleasure, now she could feel it. She wanted to touch him, to truly _feel_ his enjoyment. Tessa was just about to move her own hand when Jem's right hand brushed down her body to tangle his fingers in the curls at the apex of her thighs. Tessa froze; so did Jem.

"Tessa, I'm sorry—should I—"

" _No!_ No—it is fine—it was—just a surprise," Tessa all but panted out.

Lowering his head back down Jem nipped at Tessa's bottom lip; his fingers kept still. She began to wonder if was going to continue when his fingers moved, one running up her opening before slipping inside. Tessa couldn't stop herself from gasping. His finger moved around experimentally. She could feel the moisture making his finger slide easily around. She wondered a moment where it was coming from. Tessa didn't have long to dwell on that question, though. Jem's finger grazed a spot that made her shudder, shooting straight to her core, when he touched it. _Such plesure!_ she thought. He noticed her reaction and did it again; circling the bud over and over. Tessa couldn't hold back the soft whimpers Jem's touch issued from her.

Jem explored further and found the entrance to her sex. Slowly and gently, Jem slid his finger inside. It was a completely foreign feeling. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't unpleasant either. He gently began moving his finger slightly out then back in. Jem completed a few repetitions before adding a second finger to the first. This was a little more uncomfortable and she was suddenly glad for the mystery moisture. The slickness helped Jem's movements to be smoother. He continued to move his fingers in and out; the added digit helping to stretch her inner walls. What felt like forever to Tessa, or no time at all, she couldn't tell, Jem's thumb found the little bud she'd had no idea existed until this night, and began circling it again.

Deep in her belly Tessa felt a tightening she could not explain. She had no previous experience of this growing tension in her body. All she knew that what Jem was doing to her was absolutely magnificent! She'd had no idea that lovemaking, for she knew they were indeed in the beginnings of making love, would feel so indescribably wonderful. Tessa could hear Jem's ragged breathing as his fingers worked their magic on her body. It had to be magic, for what else could it be?

As Jem increased the speed and pressure of his fingers, so did Tessa's pleasure. It was as if her body was being pulled upwards by some unknown force. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn't care, it felt too wonderful. Jem took a nipple into his mouth at the same time he pressed his thumb down with more pressure than he had before. The ascending force was abruptly removed and with an explosion felt to her very core, she fell into an abyss of pleasure with a cry of Jem's name. After an indeterminate amount of time, Tessa floated back to earth and became aware of Jem's weight moving atop her.

Jem—

Watching Tessa write beside him before shouting his name would be a sight seared into his memory until his dying day. Even if that should come to pass ere a fortnight was out, he would be no less gratified. He was intensely happy to have brought Tessa such satisfaction that she would call out his name with wild abandon. He was never so grateful, despite the terrible circumstances of why, that Jessamine no longer resided in the room next to Tessa's, their corridor was shared with no one else, and to be far enough away from the Institute's other occupants' rooms to not be overheard.

Still, Jem mused, it would be more prudent not to call undue attention to Tessa's room. There was still a chance Sophie might be about with some task or another. Henry could be returning from the Crypt and so caught up in his thoughts he might wander into the wrong hallway. Will, of course, roamed all hours of the night sometimes, and Jem knew he might decide to come to his room on the off chance he was still awake and want to talk. Sure that they wouldn't know what to make of Tessa's shout, they may come to investigate, and Jem couldn't bear the thought of the embarrassment, most especially for Tessa, that would follow.

He'd felt the way her body had tensed before she'd shouted. Perhaps he could find a way to lessen, however blissfully angelic to his ears, the noise? It would have to be tactful so as not to offend Tessa or curb her enthusiastic response. Never in a million years would he want her to think he didn't appreciate, or delight in, her passion. It was important to him that Tessa knew he welcomed and reveled in her enjoyment. Oh, how he wished the Soundless rune could be used on a room! It would make him incandescently happy to hear her scream his name from the top of her lungs, no potential for being caught in a compromising position, even for an engaged couple.

Jem could see Tessa becoming aware of her surroundings again as he moved to cover her body with his, his arousal pressed firmly into her abdomen. Tessa didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, but soon cleared when they settled on him. She gave him a dazzling smile. He grinned in return, but quickly sobered when Tessa said, "Sorry about that."

Furrowing his brow, Jem said, "Sorry? Sorry for what?" _What, in the name of the Angel, does she think she has to apologize for?_ Jem was absolutely bewildered.

"I seem to have lost myself for a moment there." Tessa averted her eyes. "I quite forgot you were in the room. My apologies."

"Why do you feel you need to apologize for that?"

"Oh—um—well—you—" Tessa stammered, eyes looking everywhere but at him. "You have—um—needs," Tessa finished, blushing crimson. Jem couldn't help it, he laughed, burying his head into her neck. _Oh, Tessa,_ Jem thought, smiling into her shoulder. He raised his head back up after inhaling her delightful scent. Tessa was now frowning, he could tell from confusion and embarrassment.

Wanting to reassure her immediately, Jem began, "Tessa, please look at me." She did, almost reluctantly. "My _needs,_ as you say, are manageable. Do I want to progress? Yes, most _emphatically,_ yes. But I also want to see to your comfort first. It would be incredibly selfish, not to mention rude as well, to seek my own pleasure with no consideration to yours."

Tessa nodded. "Furthermore, I also know that this first time may be painful for you." Jem waited and watched for Tessa's reaction to the statement that there would be pain. He greatly wished she knew this already. He didn't fancy explaining the mechanics of sexual intercourse. Not to mention how awkward it would be, thinking of Henry, but it would also serve to swiftly cool his ardor. Although, if necessary, Jem would explain the best way he could. Hopefully he could do a better job than Henry, he thought with an inward wry chuckle. Talking through it would certainly help to satisfy both of them later on.

The feeling of internal relief was glorious when Tessa didn't blink an eye, seem surprised, or frightened at the pronouncement. _Good. She must know the basics then, at least._ Jem just realized that he actually found the idea appealing of playing "teacher," however limited his own knowledge, to the more pleasurable aspects of lovemaking. He prayed to the Angel he didn't blunder his way through this, leaving Tessa disappointed. _No! He would NOT let the happen._

"I would find very little pleasure in the act if you did not, my darling Tessa." Jem's voice was even and honest. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes. Always." Tessa said with a smile.

"Good." Jem bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled.


	11. Announcement

First of all, I'd like to thank all of you who have loved or followed my story. It means so much to me, especially since I'm so new to writing my own fanfiction! :) Second, I know it's been a while since I've updated and I wanted to give a brief explanation as to why. I'm at a part in the story where it's all my own and my creativity has stalled. I'm currently taking care of my terminally ill grandma, whom I'm extremely close to, on a 24 hour, several days a week capacity. To say that I'm emotionally and physically depleted is an understatement. I think it's all finally starting to catch up with me and unfortunately it has begun to affect my writing. I promise that I'm doing my best to cope better with it all and start writing again soon. I know that I personally hate it when a story is left unfinished and I vow I won't do that. It's just going to take me a little longer than I'd originally intended. Thanks for sticking with me!

~~~Lisa


	12. That Fire of Fire Part IV

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belong to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

 **That Fire of Fire Part IV**

Tessa-

Tessa couldn't help but giggle when Jem kissed the tip of her nose. It was incredibly sweet after the extraordinary bliss Jem had wrought from her body. She blushed just thinking about it. " _What_ has you blushing so prettily?" Jem's flirty tone had her blushing further. "I—I just was thinking—" She couldn't finish. Jem seemed to understand. He bent his head down and kissed her, a rather chaste kiss for what had just occurred between them. She wasn't exactly sure what to do next, but she didn't want the atmosphere to become awkward. Jem seemed to be content just lying there for the time being. She knew if she didn't want to continue that he wouldn't be upset or even disappointed. 

But Tessa _wanted_ to continue. She wanted it more than she wanted the air she needed to live. Obviously she knew that was irrational, but she was just going to have to be irrational. Jem loved her and she loved him. It didn't matter that there would always be a small part of her heart reserved for Will, but Will had no place in her thoughts tonight. Tonight was only for her and Jem. At this point, lying beneath him, she felt deep in her soul that this would have possibly happened before the wedding in December, even without the crisis with the _yin fen._ There had been too much tension, albeit a _good_ tension, building between them for so long now. It was the conclusion to a beginning that had started in his room all those weeks ago. 

Tessa couldn't bring herself to be embarrassed or sorry this was happening before they were married. Despite it being _very_ improper, it felt right. Sharing the physical manifestation of their love was beautiful. _I most certainly will not be sorry about this. How could I when it was Jem? Open, considerate, loving Jem,_ Tessa thought as she sighed happily. 

Their breathing mostly returned to normal, Tessa looked up at Jem and ran her finger along his bottom lip. "Tell me if I do something wrong," she whispered. Flushing crimson himself, Jem silently nodded. After a slight nudge from her Jem pulled away enough that she could slide her hands slowly down his chest, feeling every ridge and dip. Jem shook a little at her touch. The hair below Jem's navel was soft and she followed it down until her fingertips touched the base of his member. Tessa could feel the tension tighten in his whole body when she'd touched him. She brushed against him again causing Jim to shiver a little. 

Firm, yet gentle, Tessa wrapped her hand around him fully. She heard Jem's sharp intake of breath. Emboldened by this response, she gave a few experimental light squeezes. She hoped what she was doing was correct. _He hasn't asked me to stop, at least._ Jem shifted to cover her hand with his. "Like this," and moved her hand up and down his length a couple of times. He let go, indicating for Tessa to continue, resuming to rest on both elbows. Jem's eyes were closed, his chest heaving. Tessa wondered at how soft, but firm he felt in her hand. _How could iron feel like silk?_

She reached the tip of his member again and ran her thumb over the end. Tessa felt a bead of moisture. _Where did that come from?_ she thought. Jem didn't seem bothered by it so she decided to pay no mind to it, either. She did, however, run her thumb over it, effectively spreading it around, making her thumb slide more easily. _Just like with his fingers in me._ Tessa blushed a little at the thought. A moment later she thought, _this must be our bodies' natural reaction. Well, it certainly helps having less friction._ Tessa did her best to spread the steadily leaking liquid as much as she could, indeed making her actions smoother. Jem suddenly groaned, grabbing her hand to cease her movements. "Tess," Jem panted, "You—you must stop." 

"Did—did I hurt you?" There was nothing but concern in her question. 

"No. It is just that if you continue I'll—that is—I won't be able to control myself." Jem answered with some embarrassment. 

_Oh_. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need only a moment." Tessa waited. Jem had his eyes closed shut tight and was attempting to calm his breathing. She couldn't help but wonder what he meant by "losing control." _Control of what?_ She didn't have long to speculate for Jem opened his eyes, looked down at her, let out a gust of breath and asked, "Tessa, are you ready?" 

Tessa knew that she was with every fiber of her being. "Yes. Make me yours, James," she said breathily. 

With an unseen before intensity Jem lowered his head to kiss her. Slow kisses building anticipation she felt in the deepest recesses of her being. He brought his hand between them to stimulate her core again. "Oh, oh _please_ ," she moaned. Tessa wasn't sure what it was exactly she was begging Jem for. Was it the bliss he'd provoked earlier, for him to fully claim her, or for him to find his, yet to be had, satisfaction. Perhaps all three? 

Using his fingers, he once again spread the liquid her body produced, coating her inside and out. She couldn't believe how good that simple action felt. Jem shifted above her again and she felt him wrap his hand around himself, positioning the tip of his member at the entrance of her sex. Tessa looked straight at Jem with a clear-eyed expression, letting him know she was ready. 

Jem-

 _Make me yours, James._

Kissing her again and again, Jem thought he had never heard words that sounded more like music to his ears in his whole life. Just the way Tessa had uttered those few words made him simultaneously want to weep with joy and get on his knees to thank the Angel for bringing this wonderfully brave, beautiful girl, who miraculously loved him back, into his life. He'd worship the ground Tessa walked on if she'd let him, but she wasn't that kind of person. Jessamine would've loved that kind of adoration, but not Tessa. 

Tessa didn't want you to pretend she was something she wasn't. But to Jem, she would always be a miracle, brining a happiness he thought he'd never know; the happiness of loving someone who loved you as well, loved you enough to marry you even if your days on this earth were most assuredly numbered. Unless there was another miracle, Jem's days were definitely _very_ shortly numbered, but Tessa _still_ wanted to marry him. He had never loved her more.

Jem's fingers slipped easily around Tessa's sex, and he liberally coated her inside and out, knowing this would ease some of the discomfort for her. He knew he should ease his way in until meeting the resistance of her maidenhead, let her adjust to him before pushing past. After breaking through the barrier he should once again stop for her to recover from the shock and pain. Jem read that Tessa may not climax during vaginal intercourse, especially her first time, but he could damn well ensure she felt good, at least. He prayed to the Angel he would accomplish this.

When Jem was satisfied that he'd made Tessa as prepared for him as he could, he moved so that he could line up his member to her entrance, pausing to assess if she was ready. Tessa looked at him, her face not showing any sign of fear or hesitancy, only anticipation. She was just as eager as he was. Jem didn't need any more of an invitation.

With the self-control of the Shadowhunter he was, Jem slowly pushed himself inside Tessa's hot, slick channel. It felt so incredibly good! _By the Angel,_ Jem thought as he shuddered a little. He stopped when he could feel the tip of his member touch the barrier. Jem felt Tessa tense just the tiniest bit, even though he could tell she was trying not to. Hoping to put her at ease again, Jem bent down and captured her lips, wanting to convey the love he felt for her and the promise that he would try to hurt her as little as possible.

Jem felt Tessa relax, snaking her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with everything she had. He would've been happy to continue kissing her like this for eternity, but his body was pushing him for more. Still kissing Tessa, Jem suddenly surged forward, quickly breaking through her maidenhead. He hated to hear her muffled cry of pain, but he knew it couldn't be helped. He paused to give her time to recover.

Tessa was silent with her eyes closed for approximately a minute. Jem's body was thrumming, urging him onward, but he would give her whatever amount of time she needed. He closed his eyes, concentrating on controlling his body's demands when Tessa cupped his face. He opened his eyes and saw with relief that she didn't look to still be in much pain. Tessa surprised Jem when she pulled his head down so she could kiss him again. He knew she was telling him she was ready for more.

Eager as ever, Jem slowly pulled almost all the way out of Tessa and pushed back inside. The feeling of her warm walls hugging him tightly was incredible. There was nothing like it! _Oh, by the Angel,_ Jem thought as he repeatedly thrust in and out gently. If he were to suddenly die in this moment, Jem knew he would die the happiest man in the history of time. _A most pleasurable death, indeed!_

Their movements were a little awkward to begin with, but Jem and Tessa soon found a satisfying rhythm. It wasn't long before Tessa began making soft whimpering sounds. _She must be enjoying it some then,_ Jem thought, pleased with himself. He knew this was what Heaven felt like as he moved steadily, gradually increasing his pace. He wanted to make this last as long as possible, but he knew he was fast approaching his completion.

His wits were on the verge of scattering, but Jem still had enough presence of mind to keep himself in check, he didn't want to be rough with Tessa. She would be sore enough as it was. Jem closed his eyes tight, mentally trying to remember runes from the Gray Book in an attempt to delay his climax. Being inside Tessa like this was the most pleasurable experience of his life and he wanted it to go on forever. It was a losing battle, however, Jem couldn't hold on much longer.

A tightening sensation overcame Jem's body, like a string being pulled so tightly it finally snapped. He groaned and released his seed in hot bursts inside Tessa, the climax absolutely exquisite. He shuddered, slowing his thrusting until he was still. Unable to support himself any longer Jem collapsed on top of Tessa, both of them breathing in pants.

Jem felt as if he were floating, thinking to himself that this was what those people must feel after making their purchases at opium dens. _No wonder they go back again and again!_ He became aware that Tessa was running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It brought him back to reality enough to know he shouldn't stay on top of her. Gathering her in his arms Jem rolled onto his back, surprising a quiet gasp out of Tessa. She was now half draped over his body. He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders so she wouldn't get chilled.

He kissed her forehead and asked, "Tessa, my darling, are you alright?"

Tessa lifted her head and grinned down at him. "Never better. Are you?" Her grin told Jem that she knew he was more than alright.

Jem kissed the tip of her nose again, eliciting another giggle. "I think you know the answer to that question." Tessa blushed. She was so beautiful with her sparkling eyes, mussed hair, and the expression of love on her face.

Tessa bowed her head toward him, and said in a low, husky tone, "I love you, James Carstairs, with all of my heart," sincerity in every word.

Jem's heart clenched with emotion, he'd never tire of hearing those words from Tessa. "And I love you, my darling Theresa Gray, forever." She leaned down to give a long, slow kiss. After pulling away, Tessa laid her head on his chest. With a sigh of contentment Jem wrapped his arms around her and settled comfortably on the bed. He was exhausted, but in the best way possible. Kissing the top of Tessa's head, Jem closed his eyes, too tired to hold them open another moment. Basking in the afterglow of making love with Tessa and the pleasant feeling of her bare skin against his, Jem fell asleep feeling more at peace than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

 **I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I promise to start trying to upload chapters more often. Thanks! :)**


	13. That Fire of Fire Part V

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

 **That Fire of Fire Part V**

Tessa-

The dining room was not quite full, not everyone having yet arrived for breakfast, when Jem made his announcement.

"Tessa and I are going to get married," he said, very calmly, draping his napkin over his lap. Tessa was surprised at his nonchalant attitude, she was a bundle of nerves, almost afraid of everyone's reaction to the news. She told herself to not fidget, her and Jem needed to present a united front with authority so that the others knew they were completely serious and prepared to take this step. Tessa sat up straighter, hoping to appear as calm as Jem.

"Is this meant to be a surprise?" asked Gabriel, who was dressed in gear as if he intended to train after breakfast. He had already taken all the bacon from the serving platter, and Henry was looking at him mournfully. "Aren't you engaged already?" Tessa wanted to hit him, he was being so annoying.

"The wedding date was set for December," said Jem, reaching beneath the table to give Tessa's hand a reassuring squeeze. She was grateful for the support and gave a light squeeze back. "But we have changed our minds. We intend to marry tomorrow." _Here we go,_ Tessa thought, mentally bracing herself for the onslaught of comments.

The effect was galvanic. Henry choked on his tea and had to be pounded on the back by Charlotte, who appeared to have been stricken speechless. Gideon dropped his cup into his saucer with a clatter, and even Gabriel paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Sophie, who had just come in from the kitchen carrying a rack of toast, gave a gasp. "But you can't!" she said. "Miss Gray's dress was ruined, and the new one isn't even started yet!"

Personally Tessa was glad the dress had been ruined, she'd hated it.

"She can wear any dress," Jem said. "She does not have to wear Shadowhunter gold, for she is not a Shadowhunter. She has several pretty gowns; she can choose her favorite." He ducked his head shyly toward Tessa. "That is, if that is all right with you." Tessa was about to reply, but she suddenly lost her voice.

Tessa did not answer, for at that moment Will and Cecily had crowded in through the doorway. "I have _such_ a crick in my neck," Cecily was saying with a smile. I can hardly believe I managed to fall asleep in such a position—"

She broke off as both of them seemed to sense the mood of the room and paused, glancing around. Will did seem better rested than he had the day before, and pleased to have Cecily by him, though that cautious good mood was clearly evaporating as he glanced around at the expressions of the others in the room. "What's going on?" he said. "Has something happened?" Tessa inwardly cringed, she didn't want to hurt him, but knew it was impossible.

"Tessa and I have decided to move up our wedding ceremony," Jem said. "It will be in the next few days."

Will said nothing, and his expression did not change, but he went very white. He did not look at Tessa.

"Jem, the Clave," Charlotte said, ceasing to pound Henry's back and standing up with a look of agitation on her face. "They have not approved your marriage yet. You cannot go against them—"

"We cannot wait for them either," Jem said. "It could be months, a year—you know how they prefer to delay than give an answer they fear you will not like."

"And it is not as if our marriage can be their focus at the moment," Tessa said. "Benedict Lightwood's papers, searching for Mortmain—all must take priority. But this is a personal matter."

"There are no personal matters to the Clave," Will said. His voice sounded hollow and odd, as if he were a great distance away. There was a pulse pounding at his throat. Tessa thought of the delicate rapport they had begun to build between them over the past few days and wondered if this would destroy it, dashing it into pieces like a fragile craft against rocks. "My mother and father—"

"There are Laws about marriage to mundanes. There are no Laws about marriage between a Nephilim and what Tessa is. And if I must, like your father, I will give up being a Shadowhunter for this."

"James—"

"I would have thought you of all people would understand that," said Jem, the look he bent on Will both puzzled and hurt.

"I am not saying I don't understand. I'm only urging you to _think_ —"

"I have thought." Jem sat back. "I have a mundane marriage license, legally procured and signed. We could walk into any church and marry today. I would much prefer you all be there, but if you cannot be, we will do it regardless."

"To marry a girl just to make her a widow," said Gabriel Lightwood. "Many would say that was not a kindness." _How dare he?!_ Tessa was livid.

Jem went rigid beside Tessa, his hand stiff in hers. Will started forward, but Tessa was already on her feet, burning holes in Gabriel Lightwood with her eyes.

"Do not _dare_ speak about it as if Jem has all the choice about it and I have none," she said, never moving her eyes from his face. "This engagement was not forced on me, nor do I have any illusions about Jem's health. I choose to be with him for however many days or minutes we are granted, and to count myself blessed to have them."

Gabriel's eyes were as cold as the sea off the Newfoundland coast. "I was only concerned for your welfare, Miss Gray."

"Better to look out for your own," Tessa snapped.

And now those green eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

"I believe the lady means," Will drawled, "that _she_ is not the one who killed her father. Or have you so quickly recovered from it that we have no need for concern for your sensibilities, Gabriel?"

Cecily gave a gasp. Gabriel rose to his feet, and in his expression Tessa saw again the boy who had challenged Will to single combat the first time she had met him—all arrogance, stiffness, and hate. "If you ever dare—," he began.

" _Stop_ ," Charlotte said—and then she broke off, as through the windows came the sound of the rusty gates of the Institute grinding open and the clop of horse hooves on pavement. "Oh, by the Angel. _Jessamine_." Charlotte scrambled to her feet, discarding her napkin on her plate. "Come—we must go down to greet her."

It proved, if an ill-timed arrival in other respects, at least an excellent distraction. There was a slight hubbub and a deal of puzzlement on the part of Gabriel and Cecily, neither of whom really understood precisely who Jessamine was or the part she had played in the life of the Institute. They proceeded down the the corridor in a disorderly fashion, Tessa hanging back slightly; she felt breathless, as if her corset had been laced too tightly. She thought of the night before, holding Jem in the music room as they kissed and whispered to each other for hours of the wedding they would have, the marriage that would follow—as if they had all the time in the world. As if getting married would grant him immortality, though she knew it would not.

As she started down the stairs toward the entryway, she stumbled, distracted by thoughts of what had happened in her room later in the night. A hand on her arm steadied her. She looked up, and saw Will.

They stood there for a moment, frozen together like a statue. The others were already on their way down the stairs, their voices rising up like smoke. Will's hand was gentle on Tessa's arm, though his face was almost expressionless, seeming carved out of granite. "You do not agree with the rest of them, do you?" she said, with more of a sharp edge than she meant. "That I should not marry Jem today. You asked me if I loved him enough to marry him and make him happy, and I told you I did. I don't know if I can make him happy entirely, but I can try."

If anyone can, you can," he said, his eyes locking with hers.

"The others think I have illusions about his health."

"Hope is not illusion."

The words were encouraging, but there was something in his voice, something dead that frightened her.

"Will." She caught at his wrist. "You would not abandon me now—not leave me the only one who still searches for a cure? I cannot do it without you."

He took a deep breath, half-closing his shadowed blue eyes. "Of course not. I would not give up on him, on you. I will help. I will continue. It is only—"

He broke off, turning his face away. The light that came down through the window high above illuminated cheek and chin and the curve of his jaw.

"Only what?"

"You remember what else I said to you that day in the drawing room," he said. "I want you to be happy, and him to be happy. And yet when you walk that aisle to meet him and join yourselves forever you will walk an invisible path of the shards of my heart, Tessa." _Oh, Will,_ she thought, her heart breaking for him. "I would give over my own life for either of yours. I would give over my own life for your happiness. I thought perhaps that when you told me you did not love me that my own feelings would fall away and atrophy, but they have not. They have grown every day. I love you now more desperately, this moment, than I have ever loved you before, and in an hour I will love you more than that. It is unfair to tell you this, I know, when you can do nothing about it." He took a shuddering breath. "How you must despise me."

Tessa felt as if the ground had dropped out from beneath her. She remembered what she had told herself the night before: that surely Will's feelings for her had faded. That over the term of years, his pain would be less than hers. She had believed it. But now—"I do not despise you, Will. You have been nothing but honorable—more honorable than ever I could have asked you to be—"

"No," he said bitterly. "You expected nothing of me, I think." _You are so wrong, Will Herondale._

"I have expected _everything_ of you, Will," she whispered. "More than you ever expected of yourself. But you have given even more than that." Her voice faltered. "They say you cannot divide your heart, and yet—"

"Will! Tessa!" It was Charlotte's voice, calling up to them from the entryway. "Do stop dawdling! And can one of you fetch Cyril? We may need help with the carriage if the Silent Brothers intend to stay at all."

Tessa looked helplessly at Will, but the moment between them had snapped; his expression had closed; the desperation that had fueled him a moment before was gone. He was shut away as if a thousand locked doors stood between them. "You go on down. I will be there shortly." He said it without inflection, turned, and sprinted up the steps.

Tessa put a hand against the wall as she made her way numbly down the stairs. What had she almost done? What had she nearly told Will?

 _And yet I love you._

But God in Heaven, what good would that do, what benefit would it be to anyone to say those words? Only the most awful burden on him, for he would know what she felt but not be able to act on it. And it would tie him to her, would not free him to seek out someone else to love—someone who was _not_ engaged to his best friend.

 _Someone else to love._ She stepped out onto the front stairs of the Institute, feeling the wind cut through her dress like a knife. The others were there, gathered on the steps a bit awkwardly, especially Gabriel and Cecily, who looked as if they were wondering what on earth they were doing there. Tessa barely noticed them. She felt sick at the heart and knew it was not the cold. It was the idea of Will in love with someone else.

But that was pure selfishness. If Will found someone else to love, she would suffer through it, biting her lips in silence, as he had suffered her engagement to Jem. She owed him that much, she thought, as a dark carriage driven by a man in the parchment robes of the Silent Brothers rattled through the open gates. She owed Will behavior that was as honorable as his own.

The carriage clattered up to the foot of the stairs and paused. Tessa felt Charlotte move uneasily behind her. "Another carriage?" she said, and Tessa followed her gaze to see that there was indeed a second carriage, all black with no crest, rolling silently in behind the first.

"An escort," said Gabriel. "Perhaps the Silent Brothers are worried she will try to escape."

"No," said Charlotte, bewilderment shading her voice. "She wouldn't—"

The Silent Brother driving the first carriage put away his reins and dismounted, moving to the carriage door. At that moment the second carriage pulled up behind him, and he turned. Tessa could not see his expression, as his face was hidden by his hood, but something in the cast of his body betokened surprise. She narrowed her eyes—there was something strange about the horses drawing the second carriage: their bodies gleamed not like the pelts of animals but like metal, and their movements were unnaturally swift.

The driver of the second carriage leaped down from his seat, landing with a jarring thud, and Tessa saw the gleam of metal as his hand went to the neck of his parchment robes—and pulled the robes away.

Beneath was a shimmering metal body with an ovoid head, eyeless, copper rivets holding together the joints of elbows, knees, and shoulders. Its right arm, if you could call it that, ended in a crude bronze crossbow. It raised that arm now and flexed it. A steel arrow, fletched with black metal, flew through the air and punched into the chest of the first Silent Brother, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying several feet across the courtyard, before he struck the earth, blood soaking the chest of the familiar robes.

Jem-

Jem was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Tessa wasn't walking with him as everyone headed to greet Jessamine. There were several emotions he was feeling as well. He knew that the announcement of moving the wedding up wasn't going to exactly be fun, and he did expect resistance, just not from Will. He'd lain awake in bed for some time after he snuck back to his room in the very early hours of the morning. He'd been trying to predict how everyone would react and he'd been mostly right. Will was who Jem thought would be his only support, other than Tessa. He didn't understand Will's comments, and they were a little hurtful to be honest.

Then he was absolutely livid with Gabriel Lightwood and his comments to him and then to Tessa. Jem was incredibly proud at how Tessa had stood up to Gabriel. His heart swelled with love when she stated she would count herself blessed to spend whatever time there was left with him. She continued to surprise him and he had a feeling that life with Tessa would never be boring, whether that life was only two more days or if they had another fifty years together. Usually Jem didn't allow himself to feel self-pity as it didn't help or change anything, but every now and then he had to at least acknowledge there were times he could feel a little. Now was one of those times. He'd never wished more that he had more time, wished he _could_ give her fifty or sixty more years.

At this point, he'd even take six months. It was not going to happen though and it made him want to rage at the world. It was pointless, however, so he told himself he needed to just move past it and enjoy what little time there was left. He knew he needed to talk to Will too, he didn't want to waste any time on small disagreements. Jem was one to never stay angry long anyway, especially not with Will. Jessamine was a different story. If there wasn't already enough conflict, Jem would've asked Charlotte if Jessamine could be moved to a different room. He didn't want her anywhere near Tessa, but he didn't want to cause Charlotte anymore stress in her condition.

Besides, if they did manage the wedding ceremony today, Tessa would sleep in his room tonight and he wouldn't worry as much. Jem very much hoped Jessamine being back wouldn't cause many problems, but time would tell. As per his usual attitude, he was hoping for the best. If Jem hadn't been so preoccupied with his thoughts, he might have picked up on something being wrong before it was too late. To be fair though, none of the others truly noticed something was wrong until it was too late either. The shock of the Silent Brother being shot with the arrow lasted only a moment before the Shadowhunters jumped into action.


	14. Graven in Metal

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

Graven in Metal

Tessa-

Silent Brothers, Tessa saw with a frozen shock, bled as red as any mortal man did.

She heard Charlotte shout out orders, and then Henry was tearing down the stairs, racing for the first carriage. He yanked the door open, and Jessamine tumbled out into his arms. Her body was limp, her eyes half-closed. She wore the ragged white dress Tessa had seen her in when she had visited her in the Silent City, and her lovely blond hair was shorn close to her skull like a fever patient's. "Henry," she sobbed audibly, clutching as his lapels. "Help me, Henry. Get me inside the Institute, _please_ —"

Henry rose, turning, with Jessamine in his arms, just as the doors of the second carriage burst open and automatons poured out, joining the first one. They seemed to be unfolding themselves as they stepped out, like children's paper toys—one, two, three, and then Tessa lost count as the Shadowhunters around her seized weapons from their belts. She saw the flash of the metal that shot from the tip of Jem's sword-cane, heard the murmur of Latin as seraph blades blazed up around her like a circle of holy fire.

And the automatons charged. One of them raced toward Henry and Jessamine, while the others darted for the steps. She heard Jem call her name, and realized she had no weapon. She had not planned to train today. She looked around wildly, for anything, for a heavy rock, or even a stick. Inside the entryway there were weapons hung on the walls—as adornment, but a weapon was a weapon. She dashed inside and seized a sword from its peg on the wall before spinning about and racing back outside.

The scene that met her eyes was chaos. Jessamine was on the ground, crouched against a wheel of her carriage, her arms up over her face. Henry stood before her, a seraph blade slashing back and forth in his hands as he fended off the automaton trying to get by him, its spiked hands reaching for Jessamine. The rest of the clockwork creatures had spread out across the steps and were locked in combat with individual Shadowhunters.

As Tessa lifted the sword in her hands, her eyes darted about the courtyard. These automatons were different from those she had seen before. They moved more swiftly, with less jerking to their steps, their copper joints folding and unfolding smoothly.

On the lowest step both Gideon and Gabriel were battling furiously with a ten-foot mechanical monster, its spiked hands swinging down at them like maces. Gabriel already had a wide slash across his shoulder that was pouring blood, but he and his brother were harrying the creature, one from the front, one from the back. Jem rose from a crouch to drive his sword-cane through the head of another automaton. Its arms spasmed and it tried to jerk back, but the sword was buried in its metal skull. Jem tugged his blade free, and when the automaton came at him again, he sliced at its legs, taking one out from under the creature. It lurched to the side, toppling to the cobblestones.

Closer to Tessa, Charlotte's whip flashed through the air like lightening, slicing the crossbow arm from the first automaton. It did not even slow the creature down. As it reached for her with its second, spatulate and taloned arm, Tessa darted between them and swung her sword the way Gideon had taught her to, using her whole body to drive the force and striking from above to add the power of gravity to her strike.

The blade fell, shearing away the creature's second arm. This time blackish fluid jetted from the wound. The automaton kept its course, bending to butt at Charlotte with the crown of its head, from which a short, sharp blade protruded. She cried out as it struck her upper arm. Then she flashed forth with her whip, the silver-gold electrum winding about the creature's throat and pulling tight. Charlotte yanked her wrist back, and the head, sheared away, fell to the side; finally the creature toppled, dark fluid pulsing sluggishly from the gashes in its metal chassis.

Tessa gasped and tossed her head back; sweat was sticking her hair to her forehead and temples, but she needed both hands for the heavy sword and couldn't push it away. Through stinging eyes she saw that Gabriel and Gideon had their automaton on the ground and were hacking at it; behind them Henry ducked just in time to miss a swing from the creature that had him cornered against the carriage. Its club-like hand punched through the carriage window, and glassed rained down on Jessamine, who screamed and covered her head. Henry drove his seraph blade up, burying it in the automaton's torso. Tessa was used to seeing seraph blades burn through demons, reducing them to nothing, but the automaton only staggered back and then came on again, the blade buried in its chest burning like a torch.

With a cry Charlotte began to dart down the stairs toward her husband. Tessa glanced around—and did not see Jem. Her heart luched. _I have to find him,_ she thought, knowing she would feel a little better if he was at least in her sights during the battle. She took a step forward—

And a dark figure rose up in front of her, robed all in black. Black gloves covered its hands and black boots its feet. Tessa could see nothing but a snow-white face surrounded by the folds of a black hood, as familiar and horrible as a recurring nightmare.

"Hello, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Black.

"But you're dead," Tessa gasped, backing up a step. "I saw you die—"

She broke off with a shriek as long metal arms snaked around from behind her like bands, jerking her off her feet. Her sword clattered to the ground as an automaton's grip tightened about her, and Mrs. Black smiled her terrible cold smile.

"Now, now, Miss Gray. Aren't you at least a little glad to see me? After all, I was the first to welcome you to England. Though you've made yourself quite at home since, I daresay."

"Let me go!" Tessa kicked out hard, but the automaton only slammed its head into hers, making her bite down hard on her lip. She choked and spit: saliva and blood spattered Mrs. Black's still white face. "I'd rather die than go with you—"

The Dark Sister wiped away the fluid with a glove and a scowl of distaste. "Unfortunately, that cannot be arranged. Mortmain wants you alive." She snapped her fingers at the automaton. "Take her to the carriage."

The automaton took a step forward, Tessa in its arms—and collapsed forward. Tessa barely had time to throw her arms out to break her fall as they hit the ground, the clockwork creature on top of her. Agony shot through her right wrist, but she pushed against it anyway, a scream ripping free of her throat as she tore herself sideways and slid down several steps, Mrs. Black's shriek of frustration echoing in her ears.

She looked up dizzily. Mrs. Black was gone. The automaton that had been holding Tessa listed sideways on the steps, part of its metal body sheared away. Tessa caught a quick glimpse of what was inside it as it turned: gears and mechanisms and clear tubes pumping brackish fluid. Jem stood behind and above it, breathing hard, splattered with the automaton's oily black blood. His face was white and set. He glanced at her quickly, a swift check to assess that she was all right, and sprang down the stairs, slicing again at the automaton, severing one of its legs from its torso. It spasmed like a dying snake, and its remaining arm shot out and seized Jem by the ankle and yanked hard.

Jem's feet went out from under him, and he clattered to the ground, rolling over and over down the steps, clutched in an awful embrace with the metal monster. _Jem!_ The noise as the automaton skidded down, of metal being dragged along stone, was awful. As they hit the ground together, the force of the fall knocked them apart. Tessa stared in horror as Jem staggered dizzily to his feet, his own red blood mixing with the black fluid staining his clothes. His sword-cane was gone—lying on one of the stone steps where he had dropped it as he'd fallen.

" _Jem_ ," she whispered, and hauled herself to her knees. She tried to crawl forward, but her wrist gave way; she dropped to her elbows and reached for the cane— _I have to get to him,_ she thought.

Just as arms came around her, jerking her upright, and she heard Mrs. Black's hissing voice in her ear. "Don't struggle, Miss Gray, or it'll go very badly for you, very badly indeed." Tessa tried to twist away, but something soft came down over her mouth and nose. She smelled a sickly sweet stench, and then blackness came down over her vision and carried her away into unconsciousness.

Jem—

The shock of seeing the Silent Brother hit by the arrow lasted only a moment. Jem knew he had to push it aside for the time being, he needed to concentrate on the problem at hand. There would be time to mourn the Silent Brother later. He knew it seemed harsh, but such was the life of Shadowhunters. Charlotte began shouting out orders, and Henry raced to the carriage to get to Jessamine.

The doors of the second carriage burst open and automatons poured out, joining the first one. _There are so many!_ Jem thought in alarm. And he didn't know where Tessa was! _Please let her be inside and safe!_ Jem prayed to the Angel. The other Shadowhunters around him seized weapons from their belts. There was a flash of metal from the tip of his sword-cane, the murmur of Latin as seraph blades blazed up all around him.

The battle began, and Jem knew this would be different from all the other instances he'd fought automatons. These automatons were more sophisticated, moved easier, which translated into that they were far deadlier than their predecessors. Dread shot throughout his body, Jem prepared himself and entered the fierce battle raging in the Institute's courtyard.

Jem crouched down as an automaton took a swing at him. He rose to drive his sword-cane through the head of the automaton. Its arms spasmed and it tried to jerk back, but the sword was buried in its metal skull. Jem tugged his blade free, and when the automaton came at him again, he sliced at its legs, taking one out from under the creature. It lurched to the side, toppling to the cobblestones.

Jem had just dispatched another automaton when a scream caught his attention. Tessa was in the grip of an automaton on the steps, yelling to be let go of. Quicker than he thought possible with so little _yin fen_ in his system, Jem was there behind the automaton. He sliced his sword through the air, shearing away part of its metal body. It collapsed forward, falling on top of Tessa. _Tessa!_ He was unable to catch her before she tore away from the automaton and she slid down several steps.

The automaton listed sideways from the damage of Jem's sword. Jem stood behind and above it, breathing hard, splattered with the automaton's oily black blood. Needing to know Tessa was safe, he glanced at her quickly, a swift check to asses that she was all right, and sprang down the stairs, slicing again at the automaton, severing one of its legs from its torso. It spasmed like a dying snake, and its remaining arm shot out and seized him by the ankle and yanked hard. It was too fast for him to do anything about it.

Jem's feet went out from under him, and he clattered to the ground, rolling over and over down the steps, clutched in an awful embrace with the metal monster. As they hit the ground together, to force of the fall knocked them apart. _By the Angel,_ Jem thought as he staggered dizzily to his feet, his own red blood mixing with the black fluid staining his clothes. His sword-cane was gone—lying on one of the stone steps where he had dropped it as he'd fallen.

The Institute gates were open, and through them a black carriage pounded, hurtling away from the Institute at top speed. Jem was at the foot of the stairs. He was pale as paper but upright, he was backing away as an automaton advanced on him. It was staggering, almost drunkenly, half its side and an arm sheared away, but Jem was unarmed. He looked up, saw Will and reached out a hand.

Will leapt down four steps and skidded sideways, seized up Jem's sword-cane and threw it. Jem caught it out of the air just as the automaton lunged for him, and he carved it cleanly in two. The top half fell away, though the legs and lower torso, now pumping an excess of disgusting black and greenish fluids, continued lurching toward him. Jem whirled to the side and swung his sword again, cutting the thing off at the knees. It fell finally, its disparate bits still twitching.

Jem turned his head and looked up at Will. Their eyes met for a moment, and Will offered a smile—but Jem did not smile back, he couldn't. He was as white as salt, and his eyes unreadle. Will began to move down the stairs toward him—but before Will could go more than a few steps, Jem whirled around and ran for the gates. He disappeared through them, vanishing into the streets of London beyond. His only thought was, _I have to get to Tessa! By the Angel, I have to get to her!_

Jem ran, and ran. Jem knew that even if he'd had a large dose of _yin fen_ in his system he would still not be able to catch the carriage quickly taking Tessa away from him. The automaton horses were too fast, but he couldn't give up. The girl he loved was being taken away from him, so swiftly he could barely see the carriage anymore. Involuntarily, Jem's body began slowing down, he simply couldn't run any longer. Accepting defeat, Jem turned around and made his way back to the Institute, in shock, his body numb.

There was a clang—the sound of the Institute gates slamming shut. The gates had just closed behind him, and he was walking toward the occupants of the Institute. He was moving slowly, as if drunk or injured. He was covered in blood. The coal-black blood of the automatons, but a great deal of red blood as well—on his shirt, streaking his face and hands, and in his hair.

He neared them, and stopped dead. He couldn't feel anything. To Will, Jem looked the way Thomas had looked when Will had found him on the steps of the Institute, bleeding out and nearly dead.

"James?" Will said.

There was a world of questions in that one word.

"She's gone," Jem said in a flat, uninflected voice. "I ran after the carriage—but it was gaining speed and I could not run fast enough. I lost them near Temple Bar." His eyes flicked toward Jessamine, but he did not even see her body, or Will holding her, or anything at all. He could only think of Tessa and how she'd been taken away from him. "If I could have run faster—," he said, and then he doubled up as if he had been struck, a cough ripping through him. He hit the ground on his knees and elbows, blood spattering the ground at his feet. His fingers clawed at the stone. Then he rolled on his back and was still.


	15. Like Water Upon Sand

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

Like Water Upon Sand

Jem-

Jem was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He kept his eyes closed because they felt very heavy, he just didn't have the strength to open them. He could tell from the soft surface underneath him that he was in a bed so he surmised he was in his own room. He could tell the room was dark and he had no idea how much time had passed since the battle with the automatons and Tessa had been taken. It almost didn't feel real, but Jem knew it was as he heard what the voices in his room were saying. He recognized Will and Magnus as the owners of them. 

"I don't know what to do," Will said. "Mortmain has taken Tessa, and I believe now I know where she might be. There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to go after her. But I cannot leave Jem. I swore an oath. And what if he wakes in the night and finds I am not here?" Jem wanted to roll his eyes. Of course he would understand if Will went after Tessa, he would _expect_ Will to find her in his place. It physically hurt Jem that he was unable to go after Tessa himself. She was _his_ fiancée, the woman he loved and swore to protect! 

"He will think I left him willingly, not caring that he was dying." Jem mentally rolled his eyes. "He will not know. And yet if he could speak, would he not tell me to go after Tessa? Is that not what he would want?" Will paused, then said, "I cannot say, and it is tearing me in half." _Yes, go after Tessa, you idiot!_ Jem's mind was practically screaming at Will. 

There was a long moment of silence. Magnus broke it when he said, "Does he know you are in love with Tessa?" _What?!_ Jem's mind almost exploded at the question. _Will, in love with Tessa???_ Jem was sure he would've vaulted out of the bed if he were strong enough. As it was, it was enough of a struggle to stay conscious. 

"No." Will said. "No. I have never said a word. It was not his burden to bear." Jem was positive he'd heard wrong, trying to make sense of the words being spoken. 

Magnus took a deep breath and spoke gently. "Will. You asked me for my wisdom, as someone who had lived many lifetimes and buried many loves. I can tell you that the end of a life is the sum of the love that was lived in it, that whatever you think you have sworn, being here at the end of Jem's life is not what is important. It was being here for every other moment. Since you met him, you have never left him and never not loved him. _That_ is what matters." Jem couldn't have said it better himself. 

"You really mean that," Will said, wonderingly, and then, "Why are you being so kind to me? I owe you a favor still, don't I? I remember that, you know, though you have never called it in." Jem wondered what Magnus had done for Will. 

"Haven't I?" Magnus said. "Will, you treat me as a human being, a person like yourself; rare is the Shadowhunter who treats a warlock like that. I am not so heartless that I would call in a favor from a broken-hearted boy. One who I think, by the way, will be a very good man someday." Jem wholeheartedly agreed. "So I will tell you this. I will stay here when you go, and I will watch over your Jem for you, and if he wakes, I will tell him where you went, and that it was for him. And I will do what I can to preserve his life: I do not have _yin fen,_ but I do have magic, and perhaps there is something in an old spell book I might find that can help him."

"I would count it a great favor," Will said. 

_"For whence had that former sorrow so easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving one who must die?"_ Magnus said. 

"What was that?" Will asked. 

_"Confessions_ of Saint Augustine," said Magnus. "You asked me how I, being immortal, survive so many deaths. There is no great secret. You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all." There was a short pause. "I will give you a moment alone with him, to say good-bye as you need. You can find me in the library." The door opened and shut softly. 

Jem could sense Will leaning over him. He touched his cheek lightly. 

_"Atque in pepetuum, frater, ave atque vale,"_ he whispered. The words of the poem had never seemed so fitting: _Forever and ever, my brother, hail and farewell._

Jem knew he couldn't let Will leave without saying anything, it was probable this was the last time they would see each other in this life. He had to say good-bye, and hear the truth from Will about Tessa. Using what felt like the last of his strength he grabbed Will's wrist. 

"I am not dead yet, Will," Jem said in a soft voice, thin but strong as wire. "What did Magnus mean by asking if I knew you were in love with Tessa?" 


	16. Fearful of the Night

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

Fearful of the Night

Jem-

Jem slowly opened his eyes, blinking sleep away. He didn't know why, but he felt a little disoriented. Looking around the room, Jem realized it wasn't his room. _Where in the name of the Angel am I,_ he thought, bewildered. It took him a few moments to become aware of the soft breathing coming from next to him. Looking over, he was a bit shocked to see Tessa sleeping. The steady rise and fall of her chest grabbed his attention and he looked down to see that the covers were pulled up to her bare shoulders. _Her bare shoulders!_

Jem was slightly alarmed until the memories came rushing back to him. The letter from Mortmain, the blackmail proposal, the argument with Tessa, throwing the packet of _yin fen_ in the fire. Will burning his hands trying to save it, and the nauseating feeling when Tessa had left the room without a word to him. Sending Church to her, asking for her to meet him in the music room, hoping and praying to the Angel that she would come and she had. Playing the violin for her, her tears at how she loved the song he'd written for her. Then the kisses, his hand on the back of her dress, Church interrupting them.

Next came the memory of kissing her in front of her bedroom door, with every intention of it being a chaste goodnight kiss, before it morphed into the most passionate kiss they'd shared, until then. Then Tessa pulling him into her room, the kisses and slow undressing. And the most glorious memory of all; making love with Tessa. He'd dreamed about it for weeks, but they paled in comparison to the real thing. It was the most singular, best moment of his life.

They'd fallen asleep with her in his arms. He wasn't sure how long had passed, but he felt rested enough that it had to have been at least a few hours or so. He was still a little tired, but his mind kept repeatedly going over the experience of making love to Tessa until his body could handle it no longer. Jem _had_ to touch her again or he'd go insane. Rolling over to face her he lightly ran his fingers down her cheek. It produced only the smallest of reactions from her. Jem decided to try something else. Leaning over her he next nuzzled into the crook of her neck before pressing light kisses there.

The kisses got Tessa's attention. First she just wriggled, then moaned as Jem kissed his way to behind her earlobe, a spot he'd noticed she'd particularly responded to earlier. Her hand made its way into his hair, her nails lightly scraping his scalp, causing Jem's body to jump to even more attention. If Jem was honest he didn't even need her to touch him for his body to respond, his desire was so great for her, especially now that he knew what it was like to make love with her.

His body needed her with an ache so acute Jem thought he would spontaneously combust. Gently urging Tessa onto her back Jem covered her body with his, continuing his kisses until he reached her mouth. She opened hers and Jem caressed her tongue with his. Tessa moved her hands to the back of his head and tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The touch felt sensual, making his body tingle with desire, and Jem loved it.

Jem moved kisses down Tessa's body, down the valley between her breasts, and lower still to her navel. He quickly dipped his tongue inside, making her squirm and Jem grinned. He'd decided he wanted to try something he'd heard from fellow Shadowhunters. Jem just hoped Tessa wouldn't object as he was sure she would never have imagined anyone doing this to her. He smiled in anticipation of her reaction. He just prayed to the Angel she wouldn't stop him. He was absolutely dying, no pun intended, to taste her...

Jem suddenly became aware of voices and it took every ounce of strength he had to concentrate so he could make out what the voices were saying. To say he was shocked at the conversation would be an understatement.

The words that stood out the most to Jem were uttered by Magnus Bane. _"Does he know that you are in love with Tessa?"_

"Will?" There was a long silence, of only Jem's breaths, raggedly in and out. As Jem released his grip on Will's wrist, Will sank into the armchair beside the bed.

Jem turned his head toward Will, against the pillow. For a moment the two young men just stared at each other. Jem could see the shock and disbelief on Will's face, he could almost always read him like a book. He wondered if Will was going to say anything or just stare at him.

"Will," Jem said again, and coughed, pressing his hand to his mouth. When he took it away, there was blood on his fingers. "Did I—have I been dreaming?" He suddenly felt very confused.

Will started upright. Jem's voice sounded so clear, so sure— _What did Magnus mean by asking if I knew you were in love with Tessa?—_ but it was as if that burst of strength had fled from him, and now he sounded dizzy and bewildered.

"Dream what?" Will asked.

Jem looked down at his bloody hand, and slowly closed it into a fist. "The fight in the courtyard. Jessamine's death. And they took her, didn't they? Tessa?"

"Yes," Will whispered. "Yes, but I don't think they'll hurt her. Remember, Mortmain desired her unhurt." That was little comfort to Jem.

"We must find her. You know that, Will. We must—" Jem struggled into a sitting position, and immediately began to cough again. Blood spattered the while coverlet. Will held Jem's frail and shaking shoulders until the coughing ceased to rack his frame, then took one of the damp cloths from the bedside table and began to clean Jem's hands. When he reached to wipe the blood from his _parabatai's_ face, Jem took the cloth gently from his grasp and looked at him gravely. "I am not a child, Will." He was tired of being treated like he couldn't do anything.

"I know." Will drew his hands back.

Jem took a deep breath. Both he and Will waited to see if it would produce another spasm of coughing, and when it did not, Jem spoke. "Magnus said you were in love with Tessa. Is it true?" Jem held his breath, waiting for the answer that had the potential to flip his world upside down.

"Yes," Will said. "Yes, it's true."

Jem's eyes were wide and luminous in the darkness. _"Does she love you?"_

"No." Will's voice cracked. "I told her I loved her, and she never wavered from you. It is you she loves."

Jem's death grip on the cloth in his hands relaxed slightly. "You told her," he said, "That you were in love with her."

"Jem—"

"When was this, and what excess of desperation could have driven you?"

"It was before I knew you were engaged. It was the day I discovered there was no curse on me." Will spoke haltingly. "I went to Tessa and told her that I loved her. She was as kind as she could be in telling me that she loved you and not me, and that you two were engaged." Will dropped his gaze. "I do not know if this will make any difference to you, James. But I truly had no idea that you cared for her. I was entirely obsessed with my own emotions." _Well, I didn't exactly share my feelings with Will, either,_ Jem thought.

Jem bit his lower lip, bringing color to the white skin. "And—forgive me for asking this—it is not a passing fancy, a transient regard...?" He broke off, looking at Will's face. "No," he murmured. "I can see that it is not." _Of course it's not. Will would never be that flippant, to tell a girl he loved her and not mean it with his entire being._

"I love her enough that when she assured me that she would be happy with you, I swore to myself I would never speak of my desires again, never indicate my regard by word or by gesture, never by action or speech violate her happiness. My feelings have not changed, and yet I care enough for her and for you that I would not say a word to threaten what you have found." The words spilled from Will's lips, like there was no reason to keep them back.

Jem was stricken. _What did I do? I have stolen the happiness from my own_ parabatai"I am so sorry, Will. So very, very sorry. I wish that I had known—"

Will slumped down in the chair. "What could you have done?"

"I could have called off the engagement—"

"And broken both your hearts? How would that have benefited me? You are as dear to me as another half of my soul, Jem. I could not be happy while you were unhappy. And Tessa—she loves _you._ What sort of awful monster would I be, delighting in causing the two people I love the most in the world agony simply that I might have the satisfaction of knowing that if Tessa could not be mine, she could not be anybody's?"

"But you are my _parabatai._ If you are in pain, I wish to lessen it—"

"This," Will said, "is the one thing you cannot give me comfort for." There was misery in every word. Will tried to hide it, but Jem knew him well enough to detect it. His heart broke for his _parabatai._

Jem shook his head. "But how could I not have noticed? I told you, I saw that the walls about your heart were coming down. I thought—I thought I knew why; I told you I always knew you carried a burden, and I knew you had gone to see Magnus. I had thought that perhaps you had made some use of his magic, to free yourself from some imaginary guilt. If I had ever known it was because of Tessa, you must know, Will, I would never have made my feelings known to her." Of course Tessa would be the miracle for Will, just as she'd been a miracle for him.

"How could you have guessed? I did all I could to hide and deny it. You—you never hid your feelings. Looking back, it was clear and plain, and yet I never saw it. I was astonished when Tessa told me that you were engaged. You've always been the source in my life of such good things, James. I never thought you would be the source of pain, and so, wrongly, I never thought of your feelings at all. And that is why I was so blind."

Jem closed his eyes. "I am grieved for your pain," he said. "But I am glad that you love her." Jem steeled himself for what he would say next.

"You are _glad?"_ Jem could hear the disbelief in Will's voice.

"It makes it easier," Jem said. "To ask you to do what I wish you to do: leave me, and go after Tessa."

"Now? Like this?"

Jem, incredibly, smiled. "Is that not what you were doing when I caught at your hand?"

"But—I did not believe you would regain consciousness. This is different. I cannot leave you like this, not to face alone whatever you must face—"

Jem's hand came up, almost as if to grab Will's hand, but he knotted his fingers in the material of his friend's sleeve instead. "You are my _parabatai,"_ he said. "You have said I could ask anything of you."

"But I _swore_ to stay with you. 'If aught but death part thee and me—'" Jem swore mentally in exasperation.

"Death _will_ part us."

"You know the words of the oath come from a longer passage," Will said. "'Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for wither thou goest, _I will go."'_

Jem was beyond frustrated and cried out with all his remaining strength. "You cannot go where I am going! Nor would I want that for you!"

"Neither can I walk away and leave you to die!"

There. Will had said it, said the word, admitted the possibility. _Die._ It was a word he'd been avoiding for years, but it had been said now and couldn't be taken back. Jem understood, but Will needed to understand that he _had_ to do this for Jem.

"No one else can be trusted with this." Jem's eyes were bright, feverish, almost wild. "Do you think I don't know that if you do not go after her, no one will? Do you think it doesn't kill me that I cannot go, or at least go with you?" He leaned toward Will. His skin was as pale as the frosted glass of a lamp shade, and like such a lamp, light seemed to shine through him from some inner source. He slid his hands across the coverlet. "Take my hands, Will." Will closed his hands around Jem's.

"Will," Jem said. "For all these years I have tried to give you what you could not give yourself."

Will's hands tightened on Jem's, which were as thin as a bundle of twigs. "And what is that?" Jem wished Will could see himself as he did.

"Faith," Jem said. "That you were better than you thought you were. Forgiveness, that you need not always punish yourself. I always loved you, Will, whatever you did. And now I need you to do for me what I cannot do for myself. For you to be my eyes when I do not have them. For you to be my hands when I cannot use my own. For you to be my heart when mine is done with beating."

"No," said Will wildly. "No, no, no. I will not be those things. Your eyes will see, your hands will feel, your heart will continue to beat."

"But if not, Will—"

"If I could tear myself in half, I would—that half of me might remain with you and half follow Tessa—"

"Half of you would be no good to either of us," said Jem. "There is no other I could trust to go after her, no other who would give of his own life, as I would, to save hers. I would have asked you to undertake this mission even if I had not known your feelings, but being certain that you love her as I do—Will, I trust you above all, and believe in you above all, knowing that as always your heart is twinned with mine in this matter. _Wo men shi jie bai xiong di—_ we are more than brothers, Will. Undertake this journey, and you undertake it not for yourself alone but for both of us."

"I cannot leave you to face death alone," Will whispered. He sounded so defeated and Jem's heart went out to him.

Jem touched the _parabatai_ rune on his shoulder, through the thin material of his nightshirt. "I am not alone," he said. "Wherever we are, we are as one."

Will rose slowly to his feet. "If there is a life after this one," he said, "let me meet you in it, James Carstairs."

"There _will_ be other lives." Jem held his hand out, and for a moment they clasped hands, as they had done during their _parabatai_ ritual, reaching across twin rings of fire to interlace their fingers with each other. "The world is a wheel," he said. "When we rise or fall, we do it together."

Will tightened his grip on Jem's hand. "Well, then," he said in a strained voice, "since you say there will be another life for me, let us both pray I do not make as colossal a mess of it as I have this one." _Typical Will._

Jem smiled at him. "I think there is hope for you yet, Will Herondale."

"I will try to learn how to have it, without you to show me."

"Tessa," Jem said. "She knows despair, and hope as well. You can teach each other. Find her, Will, and tell her that I loved her always. My blessing, for all that it is worth, is on you both."

Their eyes met and held, Jem knew Will could not bring himself to say good-bye, or to say anything at all. Jem understood. He only gripped Jem's hand one last time and released it, and then turned and walked out the door. Jem closed his eyes and sighed in relief.


	17. Ghosts on the Road

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

Ghosts on the Road

Tessa-

Tessa was furious. Furious with herself for being taken by Mrs. Black, with Mrs. Black for taking her and this disgusting conversation, but most of all, with Mortmain. Why couldn't he let her be? Let the Shadowhunters be? Why couldn't he accept that she would never help him or be _his_? That thought filled her with a shudder. The only person who could claim that she was his was Jem. Her heart ached at the thought of Jem, her sweet Jem. The joy Mrs. Black took in reminding her that Jem would die soon because Mortmain held all of the _yin fen_ to be had in England and teasing about Will was reprehensible to her.

Tessa felt the cloak of the surreal begin to descend. She could not believe that she was here, trapped in this carriage with Mrs. Black, and that the warlock woman seemed content to discuss Tessa's romantic tribulations. She turned toward the window. The moon was up, and she could see that they were riding along a narrow road—there were shadows about the carriage, and below, a rocky ravine fell away into darkness. "There are all sorts of ways of being rescued."

"Well," said Mrs. Black, with a glint of teeth as she smiled. "You can be assured that no one will be coming to rescue you now."

 _You are to be the ruin of the Nephilim._ She would rather die, and thought, _Not if I can help it!_

"Then I will have to rescue myself," Tessa said. Mrs. Black's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement as she turned her head toward Tessa with a whir and a click. But Tessa was already gathering herself, gathering all her energy in her legs and body in the way that she had been taught, so that when she launched herself across the carriage at the door, it was with all the force she possessed.

She heard the lock on the door break and Mrs. Black scream, a high whine of rage. A metal arm raked Tessa's back, seizing the collar of her dress, which tore away, and Tessa was falling, slamming down onto the rocks by the side of the road, Mrs. Black screaming at the driver to stop. Wind rushed into Tessa's ears as she fell, her arms and hands windmilling wildly against the empty space all around her, and any hopes that the ravine was shallow or that the fall would be survivable were gone. As she fell, she glimpsed a narrow stream glinting far below her, twisting among jagged rocks, and she knew she would break against the ground like fragile china when she struck.

She closed her eyes and willed that the end would be quick. _At least I have saved my friends._ The thought filled her with peace.

...

Back at the Institute, flitting between the conscious and unconscious, Jem was dreaming of Tessa and wishing Will the speed of the Angel to rescue Tessa before something more terrible happened. He began hoping to be asleep for longer periods of time, if only to see more of Tessa, even in dreams.


	18. Announcement 2

I just wanted to let you know that my grandma has passed away. I'm trying to get used to life without her and grieve. Please accept my apology that it might be a while before I update again.


	19. The Mind Has Mountains

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Cassandra Clare and The Infernal Devices.

The Mind Has Mountains

Tessa-

Tessa could never remember later if she had screamed as she had fallen. She remembered only a long and silent fall, the river and the rocks hurtling toward her, the sky at her feet. The wind tore at her face and hair as she twisted in the air, and she felt a sharp jerk at her throat.

Her hands flew up. Her Angel necklace was lifting over her head, as if an enormous hand had reached down out of the sky to remove it. A metallic blur surrounded her, a pair of great wings opening like gates, and something caught at her, arresting her fall. Her eyes widened—it was impossible, unimaginable—but her angel, her clockwork angel, had grown somehow to the size of a living human being and was hovering over her, its great mechanical wings beating against the wind. She stared up into a blank, beautiful face, the face of a stature made of metal, as expressionless as ever—but the angel had hands, as articulate as her own, and they were holding her, holding her up as the wings beat and beat and beat and she fell slowly now, gently, like a puff of dandelion fluff blown on the wind.

 _Maybe I am dying,_ Tessa thought. And, _This cannot be._ But as the angel held her, and they drifted together toward earth, the ground came clearer and clearer into focus. She could see the individual rocks by the side of the stream now, the currents as they ran downstream, the reflection of the sun in the water. The shadow of wings appeared against the earth and grew wider and wider until she was falling into it, falling into the shadow, and she and the angel plunged together to the ground and landed in the soft dirt and scattered rocks at the side of the stream.

Tessa gasped as she landed, more from shock than impact, and reached up, as if she could cushion the angel's fall with her body—but it was shrinking already, growing smaller and smaller, its wings folding in on themselves, until it struck the ground by her side, the size of a toy once more. She reached out a shaking hand and seized it. She was lying on uneven rocks, half-in, half-out of the chilly water; it was already soaking through her skirts. She seized the pendant and crawled up the side of the stream with the remainder of her strength, and collapsed at last on dry ground with the angel pressed against her heart.

...

In the Institute, Jem lay asleep once more. He had gotten his wish and was again dreaming of Tessa. He was back in her bedroom the night they had made love, where the dream had left off before he woke up and asked Will to go after her. It was like picking a book back up you had laid down, able to read from the moment you had stopped...

 _Jem moved kisses down Tessa's body, down the valley between her breasts, and lower still to her navel. He quickly dipped his tongue inside, making her squirm and Jem grinned. He'd decided he wanted to try something he'd heard from fellow Shadowhunters. Jem just hoped Tessa wouldn't objet as he was sure she would never have imagined anyone doing this to her. He smiled in anticipation of her reaction. He just prayed to the Angel she wouldn't stop him. He was absolutely dying, no pun intended, to taste her..._

 _..._

Jem's face was finally level with the brown curls guarding Tessa's womanhood. He could smell her desire and the scent was intoxicating. Unable to wait another second, Jem ran his tongue along her slit. Tessa gasped and tensed, but she didn't stop him. He smiled, immensely glad she was willing to let him try this. It meant she trusted him and that meant the world to him.

When he'd first heard of men doing this to a woman Jem had honestly thought it to be a little gross and never imagined that he would not only be doing this, but _wanting_ to. He thought it was strange how you ended up doing things you thought you never would, but Jem wasn't going to complain. He intended to fully enjoy this next experience with Tessa.

Tessa's body was still tense so hoping to help relax her with a familiar action, Jem brought his hand up to caress her breast. She'd liked that earlier so it was reasonable it would help her loosen up further, let her enjoy this rather than be nervous. Jem brushed his thumb over her nipple, he felt it stiffen. As he repeated the action he again licked along her nether lips, Tessa shivered, but didn't tense up more. He took this as a good sign. Gently fondling her breast, Jem delved his tongue deeper between her folds until he tasted her desire, sweet, yet salty. Jem savored the unique flavor of Tessa.

Jem continued his exploration and his tongue came to the little nub which had made Tessa writhe with ecstasy and shout his name in pleasure. He hoped for the same outcome again. Lightly squeezing her breast at the same time, Jem swirled his tongue around the nub. " _Ohhh,"_ Tessa moaned, a deep shudder overtaking her body. Jem smiled to himself. _We are both_ definitely _going to enjoy this!_ he thought, relishing Tessa's reaction. After moving his tongue around her nub a couple more times Jem decided to venture further down until he was at her entrance, wondering if she'd like his tongue _there._

 _Might as well,_ Jem thought. _Tessa will tell me if she doesn't like it._ Jem wriggled his tongue inside her entrance, causing her to squirm a little. She moaned as he did it twice more, but she didn't seem to like it as much as when he was at her little pleasure bud, as Jem liked to think of it. He moved back to the nub, circling around it again and again. Tessa moaned deeply, her knees pulling up higher, essentially trapping his head between her legs.

Jem smiled against her, planting a light kiss on her nether lips then diving his tongue back between her folds. Maintaining a rhythm with his tongue, Jem brought his hand down and slid a finger inside her sex. Tessa shuddered as he added another finger, steadily moving them in and out, in tune with his tongue. He kept up his ministrations on her body, adding a third finger, increasing his pace and amount of pressure he used. Her whimpers fueled his rising erection, and his desire to push her over the edge again.

Tessa was squirming beneath him, unable to stay still. Jem could tell she was close, so very close, when she began bucking her hips a little. Deciding he'd teased her enough, he was ready for her to climax. The sooner she did, the sooner he could be inside of her again, his arousal starting to overwhelm him, yearning for his own release. He knew that was a bit selfish of him, but Tessa would still have her own orgasm, and Jem figured that was all that mattered.

Jem sucked hard on her bud, effectively pushing Tessa off the cliff to sweet bliss. "Oh, Jem!" she shouted as she climaxed, her sweet nectar flooding over his tongue. He lapped up every drop he could as Tessa's body went limp, her chest heaving.

"Oh, Jem...that was...incredible." Tessa said between pants.

Jem grinned, rising up to kiss her. Bracing himself on his forearms on each side of her head, he kissed the crook of her neck. No longer able to deny his body's needs, he moved until his member was at her entrance again. He stopped, wanting to make sure she was ready for him. "Tessa—" He couldn't finish what he was saying because Tessa took ahold of his shaft and lifted her hips, guiding him inside her, slowly letting him fill her again.

They both shuddered as Jem sunk inch by inch into her sex. It was glorious, so snug and warm. Jem reveled in the sensation of being inside Tessa. He absolutely loved the feeling of it. When Jem was buried to the hilt, he took a moment to savor how her inner muscles hugged him, sporadically clenching around him, heightening his own desire and urging him to absolute bliss. Jem had never dreamed making love could feel so wonderful. He would thank the Angel until his last breath that he'd been given this beautiful gift of making love with Tessa before he died.

Jem's body urged him for more and he obeyed, slowly thrusting inside and out. He noticed that Tessa displayed no discomfort whatsoever. He was glad, it meant he didn't have to be quite as careful this time, not that he intended to be rough, just that he could let himself go a bit more. Keeping a steady pace, he ducked his head to kiss Tessa again, their tongues mating together in harmony with their lovemaking. Jem increased his pace, plunging deeply inside Tessa, her walls clenching around him with each thrust.

Needing more air than the kisses allowed, Jem and Tessa broke their mouths apart, both panting heavily. It wasn't long before Jem felt a tightening sensation deep within his body. He knew he wouldn't last much longer and he didn't want to delay very much this time. He was aware that she hadn't climaxed the last time they had made love and he wanted this time to be different. Shifting so that he didn't disrupt his movements, Jem brought a hand between them and began rubbing his thumb over her pleasure bud. Tessa began moaning within moments.

"Oh, Jem, yes." Tessa said so softly Jem almost didn't hear it, but he did. It only spurred him on to move his fingers faster.

Approximately one minute later Tessa shouted as her orgasm overtook her, her inner walls clenched tightly around him. The combination was Jem's undoing, and he climaxed with a shout of his own, his seed flooding inside Tessa. He rolled to his back, taking her with him so that she was half laying on his chest. He liked having her bare skin against his as they both heaved, trying to catch their breath. Eventually their breathing calmed, a drowsiness descending over them both. Jem kissed her forehead, small beads of perspiration still dotting along it from their exertions.

"I love you, Tessa, so very much." Jem said as he settled his cheek against the top of her head.

"And I love you, Jem." Tessa said back, pressing a kiss to his chest, wrapping her arm snugly around him.

Once again, Jem drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

...

Jem dreamed as Sophie placed cold cloths against his forehead when he stirred and murmured and burned with fever. Jem had that fever in his cheeks, the flush of a hectic rosy glow—the fever so like consumption which took so many lives—as he tossed against his pillows; his silvery-white hair like frost, and his restless fingers twitching against the blanket. Every once in a while he spoke, but the words were in Mandarin, and Sophie did not know them. He called out for Tessa. _Wo ai ni, Tessa. Bu lu run, he qing kuang fa sheng, wo men dou hui zai yi qi._ And he called out for Will as well, after his dream of Tessa, _sheng si zhi jiao,_ in a way that made Sophie want to take his hand and hold it, though when she did reach to touch him, he was burning up with fever and snatched his hand away with a cry. He did all of this unaware he was.

Jem suddenly gasped and his eyes flew open. "Will?" he said. "Will, is that you?"

"No," a voice said that Jem didn't immediately recognize. "It is Sophie."

He exhaled softly and turned his head toward her on the pillow, no strength to lift his head up. He had to focus on her face with an effort—and then he smiled. _Dear Sophie,_ he thought fondly. "Of course," he said.

"Sophie. Will is not—I sent Will away." His dream and the fever confused his thoughts somewhat.

"He has gone after Tessa," Sophie said.

"Good." Jem's long hands plucked at the blanket, contracted once into fists—and then relaxed. "I—am glad."

"You miss him," Sophie said. Jem always knew Sophie was very perceptive, seeing more than most people did.

Jem nodded slowly. "I can feel it—his distance, like a cord inside me pulled very, very tightly. I did not expect that. We have not been apart since we became _parabatai."_

"Cecily said you sent him away."

"Yes," said Jem. "He was difficult to persuade. I think if he were not in love with Tessa himself, I would not have been able to make him go."

Sophie's mouth fell open. "You _knew_?" Jem wasn't surprised she knew Will's secret as well.

"Not for long," Jem said. "No, I would not be that cruel. If I had known, I would never have proposed. I would have stood back. I did not know. And yet, now, as everything is going away from me, all things appear in such a clear light that I think I would have come to know it, even if he had not told me. At the end of things, I would have known." He smiled a little at Sophie's stricken expression. "I am glad I did not have to wait until the end."

"You're not angry?" _Why would I be?_ Jem thought. The fact that Will also loved Tessa was like a blessing to Jem, it gave him a peace of mind he hadn't realized he'd needed.

"I am glad," he said. "They will be able to take care of each other when I am gone, or at least I can hope for it. He says she does not love him, but—surely she will come to love him in time. Will is easy to love, and he has given her his whole heart. I can see it. I hope she will not break it."

Sophie was silent for a long time. Jem could see her mind was racing, a debate of whether she should tell him something, something important, or not. At last she said, "Miss Gray has great regard for Mr. Herondale, and she would not break any heart lightly, I think. But I wish you would not speak as if your death were inevitable, Mr. Carstairs. Even now Mrs. Branwell and the others are hopeful of finding a cure. I think you will live to old age with Miss Gray, and the both of you very happy." After she spoke, he could hear she had tried to keep her tone neutral, to not betray what her first few words truly meant.

He smiled as if he knew something she did not. "That is kind of you to say, Sophie. I know I am a Shadowhunter, and we do not pass easily from this life. We fight to the last. We come from the realm of angels, and yet we fear it. I think, though, that one can face the end and not be afraid without having bowed under to death. Death shall never rule me."

Sophie looked at him, a little worried. "Mr. Carstairs? Shall I fetch Charlotte?"

"In a moment, but, Sophie—in your expression, just there, when I spoke—" He leaned forward. "It is true, then?"

"Is what true?" Sophie asked him in a small voice. Jem could tell she knew what the question would be, and he also knew she could not lie to him.

...

Jem was listening to Sophie confirm what he'd suspected; Tessa was in love with Will. He knew she also loved him, for he believed her when she said it to him. He just wasn't sure exactly how he felt that she was in love with both of them, and she'd broken Will's heart to not break his. On the one hand, he felt relief that she loved Will. On the other, he felt even sicker that he'd stolen the opportunity of happiness from Will. A part of him wanted to know which of them she had loved first, but he decided he honestly didn't, thinking it might only make him feel worse.

His bedroom door opened and Charlotte was there, seeing him not only awake but sitting up and talking to Sophie, her face broke into a helpless smile of relief. "James!" she exclaimed. "I had wondered—that is, I am glad you are awake." _She must not have expected me to become conscious again._

Sophie, who was looking flushed, no doubt from just turning Jem's world upside down, rose to her feet. "Should I go, Mrs. Branwell?"

"Oh, yes, please, Sophie. Bridget's in one of her moods; she says she can't find the Bang Mary, and I haven't even the slightest what she's talking about."

Sophie almost smiled—she would have, if her heart hadn't been pounding with the knowledge that she might have just done something very dreadful. "The _bain-marie,_ " she said. "I will locate it for her." She moved toward the door, paused, and threw a look over her shoulder at Jem, who was resting back against his pillows, looking very pale but composed. Sophie was then gone, and Jem was beckoning Charlotte forward with a tired smile. He always loved seeing and talking with Charlotte. She would be a soothing balm after the information Sophie had just laid at his feet.

"Charlotte, if you would not mind very much—could you bring me my violin?"

"Of course." Charlotte went over to the table by the window where the violin was stored in its square rosewood case, with its bow and small round box of rosin. She lifted the violin and brought it over to the bed, where Jem took it carefully from her arms, and she sank down in the chair beside him. "Oh—," she said a moment later. "I'm sorry. I forgot the bow. Did you want to play?" Charlotte asked.

"That's all right." He plucked gently at the strings with his fingertips, which produced a soft, vibrant noise. "This is pizzicato—the first thing my father taught me how to do when he showed me the violin. It reminds me of being a child." He was missing his parents very much in that moment.

Charlotte reached for the box of _yin fen_ on his bedside table. There was only a pale scatter left at the bottom, barely a teaspoonful. She tapped the powder into the bottom of a glass, then poured water from the carafe into it, letting the _yin fen_ dissolve like sugar. When she handed it to Jem, he put the violin aside and took the glass from her. He stared down into it, his pale eyes thoughtful.

"Is this the last of it?" Jem asked.

"Magnus is working on a cure," Charlotte said. "We all are. Gabriel and Cecily are out purchasing ingredients for medicine to keep you strong, and Sophie and Gideon and I have been researching. Everything is being done. Everything."

Jem was surprised. "I did not realize."

"But of course it is," Charlotte said. "We are your family; we would do anything for you. Please do not lose hope, Jem. I need you to keep your strength."

"What strength I have is yours," he said cryptically, having made up his mind about something. He downed the _yin fen_ solution, handing her back the empty glass. "Charlotte?"

"Yes?"

"Have you won the fight about what to call the child yet?"

Charlotte gave a startled laugh. "Not yet," she said. "Henry is still insisting on Buford." Jem smiled.

"You'll win," he said. "You always do. You would make an excellent Consul, Charlotte."

Charlotte wrinkled her nose. "A woman Consul? After all the trouble I've had simply for running the Institute!"

"There must always be a first," said Jem. "It is not easy to be first, and it is not always rewarding, but it is important." He ducked his head. "You carry with you one of my few regrets."

Charlotte looked at him, puzzled.

"I would have liked to see the baby." _And so many more things_ , he thought sadly to himself.

It was a very simple, wistful thing to say, seeming to touch Charlotte deep in her heart. She began to cry, her usual strength and composure failing her, the tears slipping silently down her face.

"Charlotte," Jem said, comforting her. "You've always taken care of me. You'll take amazing care of this baby. You'll be a wonderful mother."

"You cannot give up, Jem," she said in a choked voice. "When they brought you to me, at first they said you would live only a year or two. You've lived nearly six. Please just live a few more days. A few more days for me."

Jem gave her a softly measured look. "I lived for you," he said. "And I lived for Will, and then I lived for Tessa—and for myself, because I wanted to be with her. But I cannot live for other people forever. No one can say that death found in me a willing comrade, or that I went easily. If you say you need me, I will stay as long as I can for you. I will live for you and yours, and go down fighting death until I am worn away to bone and splinters. But it would not be my choice."

"Then..." Charlotte looked at him hesitantly. "What would be your choice?"

He swallowed, and his hand dropped to touch the violin by his side. "I made a decision," he said. "I made it when I told Will to go." He ducked his head, and then looked up at Charlotte, his pale, blue-shadowed eyes fixed on her face, willing her to understand. "I want it to stop," he said. "Sophie says everyone is still searching for a cure for me. I know I gave Will my permission, but I want everyone to cease looking now, Charlotte. It is over."

...

Jem was at peace with his decision. He'd fallen back asleep after Charlotte had left to tell the others what he wanted. It wasn't too long before he was awoken, the Silent Brothers having come for him. Charlotte and Henry were the only two there as he was taken away. Henry's face was forlorn, as if he didn't know what to say, and Charlotte was silent and still. She neither cried, nor did she say anything as he left. He suspected it was so that she kept her composure, that if she did say anything or move to hug him, she would break down again. The only sign that gave away just how close she was to breaking down was how tightly she had her hands clenched together in front of her, squeezing so much that her knuckles had turned white. She also leaned further into Henry when he wrapped an arm around her.

Jem was glad none of the others came to see him leave. He didn't think he'd be able to appear as calm as he did if they were there. He also didn't want to see the looks of sadness or pity. He never could stand the looks of pity he was given over the years. That was the last thing he wanted to see before he left the Institute. He'd looked back one last time before the carriage had pulled away, silently saying goodbye, not knowing when or _if_ he would be back. He finally let the sadness he'd held back wash over him, grateful that his tears were few. A numbness overcame then, and he didn't try to stop it. Closing his eyes, he began to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen in the Silent City.


	20. Parabatai

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to The Infernal Devices and Cassandra Clare.

Parabatai

Tessa-

 _"Tessa!"_ The voice echoed in her ear, a ragged shout. She sat bolt upright on the riverbank, her body trembling.

 _"Will?"_ She scrambled to her feet and looked around. The moon had passed behind a cloud. The sky above was like dark gray marble, shot through with veins of black. The river ran before her, dark gray in the poor light, and glancing around, she saw only gnarled trees, the steep cliff down which she had fallen, a broad swatch of countryside stretching away in the other direction—fields and stone fences, the occasionally distant dotting of a farmhouse or habitation. She could see nothing like a city or a town, not even a cluster of lights that might have indicated a tiny hamlet.

"Will," she whispered again, drawing her arms about herself. She was _sure_ it had been his voice she heard calling her name. No one else's voice sounded like his. But it was ridiculous. He was not here. He could not be. Perhaps, like Jane Eyre, who had heard Rochester's voice calling for her on the moors, she was half-dreaming. Tessa wondered for a moment why she would imagine Will's voice instead of Jem's, but she didn't think on it overly long. She didn't want to, so she just pushed it aside to possibly think over later.

At least it was a dream that had driven her out of her unconsciousness. The wind was like a knife of cold, cutting through her clothes—she wore only a thin dress, meant for indoors, and no coat or hat—and into her skin. Her skirts were still wet with river water, her dress and stocking ripped and stained with blood. The angel had saved her life, it seemed, but it had not protected her from injury. _I suppose it can only do so much,_ Tessa thought. It wouldn't do for her to be ungrateful when it was a miracle she was still alive _because_ of the angel.

She touched it now, hoping for guidance, but it was as still and mute as ever. As she took her hand away from her throat, though, she heard Will's voice in her head: _Sometimes, when I have to do something I don't want to do, I pretend I'm a character from a book. It's easier to know what they would do._

A character from a book, Tessa thought, a good, sensible one, would follow the stream. A character from a book would know that human habitations and towns are often built by water, and would seek out help, rather than blundering into the woods. Resolutely she wrapped her arms about herself and began to trudge downstream.

...

Tessa had been walking for hours, and her thin shoes were cut through from the jagged rocks by the riverbed. She had started out almost running, but exhaustion and cold had overtaken her, and now she was limping slowly, if determinedly, downstream. The soaked material of her skirts dragged her down, feeling like an anchor that would pull her to the bottom of some terrible sea. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but not simply because she was so tired, but because it kept her mind from wandering to places she didn't want it to go.

She had seen no sign of human habitation for miles, she knew not how many, and was beginning to despair of her plan, when a clearing came into view. It had begun to rain lightly, but even through the drizzle she could see the outline of a low stone building. As she drew closer, she saw that it seemed to be a small house, with a thatched roof and overgrown path leading to the front door.

She picked up her pace, hurrying now, thinking of a kindly farmer and his wife, the kind in books who would take in a young girl and help contact her family, as the Rivers had done for Jane in _Jane Eyre._ As she drew closer, though, she noticed the dirty and broken windows and the grass growing on the thatched roof. Her heart sank. The house was deserted. _So much for a hot meal and a warm fire,_ she thought with much bitterness.

The door was already part open, the wood swelled with rain. There was something frightening about the house's emptiness, but Tessa was desperate for shelter from both the rain and any pursuers that Mortmain might have sent after her. She clung to the hope that Mrs. Black would think she had died in the fall, but she doubted that Mortmain would be so easily put off her trail. After all, if anyone knew what her clockwork angel could do, it would be him.

There was grass growing between the flagstones of the floor inside the house, and the hearth was dirty, with a blackened pot still hanging over the remains of the fire and the whitewashed walls dingy with soot and the passage of time. There was a tangle of what looked like farming implements near the door. One resembled a long metal stick with a curved forked end, the tines still sharp. Knowing she might need some means of defense, she caught it up, then moved from the entrance room into the only other room the house had: a small bedroom in which she was delighted to find a musty blanket on the bed.

She looked down hopelessly at her wet dress. It would take ages to remove without Sophie's help, and she was desperate for warmth. She wrapped the blanket around herself, wet clothes and all, and curled up on the prickly hay-stuffed mattress. It smelled of mold and probably had mice living in it, but at this moment it felt like the most luxurious bed Tessa had ever stretched herself upon.

Tessa knew it was wiser to stay awake. But despite everything, she could no longer withstand the demands of her battered and exhausted body. Clutching the metal weapon to her chest, she slid away into sleep. Unlike the blackness of before, she saw flashes while she slept. They were flashes of all manners of moments in her life, before and after she came to London. She saw her parents, her Aunt Harriett, Nate, and the occupants of the Institute, Will and Jem even in how often their faces showed up.

Tessa slept the sleep of the truly exhausted, a small portion of her mind aware she was dreaming, and hoping she would never wake.

...

Elsewhere, far from where Tessa now slept, Will had become aware that Jem, his best friend and blood brother, his _parabatai,_ was dead _._


	21. Stars, Hide Your Fires

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to The Infernal Devices and Cassandra Clare.

Stars, Hide Your Fires

Tessa-

 _The room was cold. The fire had long burned down in the grate, and the wind outside was howling around the corners of the Institute, rattling the panes of the windows. The lamp on the nightstand was turned down low, and Tessa shivered in the armchair by the bed, despite the shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders._

 _In the bed Jem was asleep, his head pillowed on his hand. He breathed just enough to move the blankets slightly, though his face was as pale as the pillows._

 _Tessa stood, letting the shawl slip from her shoulders. She was in her nightgown, the way she had been the first time she had ever met Jem, bursting into his room to find him playing the violin by the window._ Will? _he had said._ Will, is that you?

 _He stirred and murmured now as she crawled into the bed with him, drawing the blankets over them both. She cupped her hands around his and held their joined hands between them. She tangled their feet together and kissed his cold cheek, warming his skin with her breath. Slowly she felt him stir against her, as if her presence were bringing him to life._

 _His eyes opened and looked into hers. They were blue, achingly blue, the blue of the sky where it meets the sea._

 _"Tessa?" Will said, and she realized it was Will in her arms, Will who was dying, Will breathing out his last breath—and there was blood on his shirt, just over his heart, a spreading red stain—_

Tessa sat bolt upright, gasping. For a moment she stared about her, disoriented. The tiny, dark room, the musty blanket wrapped around her, her own damp clothes and bruised body, seemed foreign to her. Then the memory came back in a flood, and with it a wave of nausea. She missed the Institute piercingly, in a way she had never even missed her home in New York. She missed Charlotte's bossy but caring voice, Sophie's understanding touch, Henry's puttering, and of course—she could not help it—she missed Jem and Will. _Those people, all of those lovely people, are my home in a way I'd never had with Aunt Harriett and Nate,_ she thought sadly.

Tessa was terrified for Jem, for his health, but she was frightened for Will as well. The battle in the courtyard had been bloody, vicious. Any of them could have been hurt or killed. _And I wouldn't know it!_ Tessa tried to tamp down the horrific thought. Was that the meaning of her dream, Jem turning into Will? Was Jem ill, was Will's life in danger? Not either of them, she prayed silently. Please, let me die before harm comes to either of them.

A noice startled her out of her reverie—a sudden dry scraping that sent a brutal shiver down her spine. She froze. Surely it was just the scratching of a branch against the window. But, no—there it came again. A scraping, dragging noise.

Tessa was on her feet in a moment, the blanket still wrapped around her. Terror was like a live thing inside her. All the tales she had ever heard of monsters in the dark woods seemed to be fighting for space in her mind. _This is much worse than a monster in the woods though!_ She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath, and saw the spindly automatons on the front steps of the Institute, their shadows long and grotesque, like human beings pulled out of shape.

She drew the blanket closer around herself, her fingers closing spasmodically on the material. The automatons had come for _her_ on the Institute steps. But they were not very intelligent—able to follow simple commands, to recognize particular human beings. Still, they could not think for themselves. They were machines, and machines could be fooled.

The blanket was patchwork, the kind that would have been sewed by a woman, a woman who had lived in this house. Tessa drew in her breath and _reached—_ reached into the blanket, searching for a flicker of ownership, the signature of whatever spirit had created and owned it. It was like plunging her hand into dark water and feeling around for an object. After what felt like an age of searching, she lit upon it—a flicker in the darkness, the solidity of a soul. _Yes!_ she thought triumphantly.

She concentrated on it, wrapping it around her like the blanket she clung to. The Change was easier now, less painful. She saw fingers warp and change, becoming the clubbed, arthritic hands of an old woman. Liver spots rose on her skin, her back hunched, and her dress began to hang off her withered form. When her hair fell in front of her eyes, it was white.

The scraping sound came again. A voice echoed in the back of Tessa's mind, a querulous old woman's voice demanding to know who was in her house. Tessa stumbled for the door, her breath coming short, her heart fluttering in her chest, and made for the main room of the house.

For a moment she saw nothing. Her eyes were rheumy, filmed over; shapes looked blurred and distant. Then something rose from beside the fire, and Tessa bit back a scream.

It was an automaton. This one was built to look nearly human. It had a thick body, clothed in a dark gray suit, but the arms that protruded from beyond the cuffs were stick-thin, ending in spatulate hands, and the head that rose above the collar was smooth and egglike. Two bulbous eyes were set into the head, but the machine had no other features.

"Who are you?" Tessa demanded in the old woman's voice, brandishing the sharp pick she had taken earlier. "What are you doing in my house, creature?" _Please, please let me being convincing,_ Tessa silently prayed.

The thing made a whirring, clicking noise, obviously confused. A moment later the front door opened and Mrs. Black swept in. She was wrapped in her dark cloak, her white face blazing under the hood. "What's going on here?" she demanded. "Did you find—" She broke off, staring at Tessa. Dread washed over Tessa. Mrs. Black would be harder to fool than an automaton.

"What's going on?" Tessa demanded, her voice coming out in the old woman's high whine. "I ought to ask you that—breaking into perfectly decent folks' homes—" She blinked, as if to make it clear she couldn't see very well. "Get out of here, and take your friend"—she jabbed the object she held ( _A frog pick,_ said the voice of the old woman in her mind; _you use it for cleaning horse's hooves, silly girl_ )—"with you. You'll find nothing here worth stealing."

For a moment she thought it had worked. Mrs. Black's face was expressionless. She took a step forward. "You haven't seen a young girl in these parts, have you?" she asked. "Very finely dressed, brown hair, gray eyes. She would have looked lost. Her people are looking for her and offering a handsome reward." _Sure they are,_ Tessa thought sarcastically.

"A likely story, looking for some lost girl." Tessa sounded as surly as she could; it wasn't difficult. She had a feeling the old woman whose face she was wearing had been a naturally surly sort. "Get out I said!"

The automaton whirred. Mrs. Black's lips pressed suddenly together, as if she were holding back laughter. "I see," she said. "Might I say that's quite a fine necklace you're wearing, old woman?"

 _Oh, no!_ Tessa thought in alarm, her hand flying to her chest, but it was already too late. The clockwork angel was there, clearly visible, ticking gently.

"Take her," said Mrs. Black in a bored voice, and the automaton lurched forward, reaching for Tessa. She dropped the blanket and backed away, brandishing her frog pick. She managed to rake quite a long gash down the automaton's front as it reached for her and knocked her arm aside. The frog pick clattered to the floor, and Tessa cried out in pain just as the front door burst open and a flood of automatons filled the room, their arms reaching for her, their mechanical hands closing on her flesh. Knowing she was overpowered, knowing it would not do a bit of good, she finally allowed herself to scream.

...

Jem-

Somewhere in the depths of the Silent City Jem lay in a small and very uncomfortable bed in one of the preparation rooms used for the conversion of a Shadowhunter to a Silent Brother. It was an unremarkable room, so much like one of the numerous jail cells, only without the bars and shackles. Jem studied the room intently. It was all that was keeping him from crying out in pain as he'd done earlier when Runes had been applied to his cheekbones. The wait for the _yin fen_ to be mostly gone from his system as much as possible was painful, but nothing compared to the agony when the stele had touched his skin.

When he'd finally succumbed to the pain and passed out, Brother Enoch, who was in charge of his conversion, had thought he'd died. They all knew it was a very likely possibility that he wouldn't survive the application of the Runes due to his weakened condition, but he had. For a moment Jem wished he _had_ died it'd been so terrible. He was now resting, still very weak, before more Runes could be applied. It was a slow process becoming a Silent Brother and even slower for him.

Brother Enoch had explained that Jem wouldn't be as powerful as a _normal_ Silent Brother due to the small remnants of the _yin fen_ in his blood. That really didn't matter to him, however. All that mattered was that he would still be alive and be able to _know_ Will and Tessa were happy, that they would help heal each other in his absence. And that maybe one day he'd be able to see them again.

Jem didn't think overly long on that subject. Though he was glad that they would have each other, it still stung at his heart. It stung that _he_ couldn't be with Tessa, and that they also loved each other. There was also guilt that Jem had originally stood in the way of their happiness in the first place after Will told Tessa he loved her. It did selfishly comfort Jem some that Tessa loved him enough to have turned Will down then. It was a confusing, bittersweet feeling surrounding the whole situation for him. He understood how Tessa could love both him and Will at the same time. He knew most people wouldn't, but the three of them were obviously unique.

His inner musings were interrupted when the door to Jem's room opened and Brother Enoch glided inside in that eerie way of the Silent Brothers. _It is time to apply more Runes, James Carstairs,_ Jem heard in his head. It felt odd that someday that would be the only way he could communicate with others for the rest of his life. He sighed as he sat up. _This is my life now, I'd better get used to it,_ he thought, feeling the burn of the stele on his forearm.


	22. The Clockwork Princess

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to The Infernal Devices and Cassandra Clare.

The Clockwork Princess

Jem-

Jem was standing in the middle of an empty room, taking a few moments to rest. He was motionless, the only movement his chest as he heaved deeply for oxygen. He could feel sweat pouring down down his neck and body, making the parchment-colored robe stick to his back and arms. He'd been training for hours now and he was just beginning to feel exhausted. Before his conversion to a Silent Brother began he would've tired long before now, and wouldn't have been able to train this long or hard without great quantities of _yin fen_ and even then he was still risking death. Now he could train like Will.

 _Will,_ his heart gave a pang of longing for his best friend and _parabatai._ What Jem wouldn't give for the opportunity to have trained with Will like this, as _equals,_ if only once _._ It saddened him to know he never would. His heart gave another lurch because he had no idea when he would see Will again. Brother Enoch had not said, so he assumed it would be a long time until he could. He wondered if Will and Tessa would be married by then. He half hoped they would for selfless reasons; their happiness. And half hoped they wouldn't for selfish reasons; his misery might be slightly less.

Jem realized just how selfish that reason was and told himself that he _wanted_ Will and Tessa to be happy above all else. That was partially why he'd decided to become a Silent Brother. He knew that without a doubt that if he'd died when the _yin fen_ was completely gone from his system then Will would never consider trying to reconnect with Tessa. He would never allow himself to be happy out of guilt, and Jem couldn't die with that on his conscience.

Also, Jem became a Silent Brother for himself. Like he'd said to Charlotte, he'd lived for Will and her and Henry and finally Tessa, but he needed to live for himself, and that's what he was doing. _It feels damn good too,_ he thought to himself, firmly knowing he'd made the right choice.

Cognizant that he needed to recommence his training Jem took up his position again with the staff, resuming his exercises. The staff was special, made by the Iron Sisters, a weapon only for the Brotherhood. It wasn't much different from using his sword-cane so it wasn't difficult go through the paces of training with it for combat. The feel of the smooth wood was becoming more familiar, his confidence building by the hour. It was arbitrary though, as he would most likely not see combat for many years. Brother Enoch had said as much when he'd woken him this morning...

 _Brother Zachariah, it is time to begin your training,_ the voice inside his head said, waking Jem from a deep sleep. He sat up, feeling more refreshed than he'd had in years since his dependency upon the _yin fen_ began. He donned his sturdy shoes and stood, then walked towards the door where the stoic Silent Brother waited. In more silence, Jem had become quite used to it by now, they walked to a room almost completely bare but for a table against the far wall with two long wooden staffs laying in the center.

Brother Enoch spoke, _This is a staff made by the Iron Sisters, the weapon specifically for Silent Brothers. You will need to train with it, become adept at wielding it. You will become proficient, but it may be some years before you will be battle tested. How successful you are will determine that._

"Yes, Brother Enoch," Jem replied.

 _Let us begin,_ Brother Enoch said, striding towards the table. He picked up both wooden staffs, handing one to Jem as they met in the middle of the room.

Brother Enoch demonstrated a few excersices then left Jem to continue on his own. Jem could feel the _power,_ that was the only word he could use to describe it, when he took the staff. It was almost a vibration he could feel reverberating throughout his body, beginning in his fingertips. It was the one of the strangest sensations Jem had ever felt.

At what he estimated was two hours or so later, Brother Enoch returned and they began one-on-one combat practice. They sparred for a couple hours more, until Brother Enoch decided it was time for a break. Jem was surprised that he was not ready to fall over. His body was sore, but not as he would have been before his Conversion began.

Jem startled when he heard Brother Enoch's voice in his mind, he was still not used to it. _What is troubling you, Brother Zachariah?_

"I'm not exactly troubled, Brother Enoch. It has just taken me quite off guard that I'm still standing, not the least bit faint after so many hours of training. I would be close to death normally," Jem said.

 _You are aware of the strength of the Runes of the Brothhood, are you not?_ Brother Enoch asked.

"Yes, yes I am. I suppose I'm still just surprised by it," Jem replied.

 _Without the dependency upon the yin fen, your body has already adjusted to function without it. The runes have strengthened you, made you more resilient. When a rune, even a common one for all Shadowhunters, is placed upon a Silent Brother, it is more powerful than when placed upon a Shadowhunter. The permanent Stamina and Strength runes applied to you will have a greater impact. Not all Marks will be this way, as I explained to you when I came to the Institute. Many of the Marks which are used only within the Brotherhood will never be available to you. I am sorry for this, Brother Zachariah, but it is the way of the world._ The silence of the room felt magnified when Brother Enoch finally stopped _speaking_ in Jem's mind.

Jem was shocked. He'd never heard more than a few sentences from any Silent Brother. This was practically a speech! He was certain that he could also detect sincere regret from Brother Enoch that he wouldn't be able to utilize certain Marks. Especially Marks that were important in the world of the Brotherhood. He told himself it didn't matter that he wouldn't be as powerful, as long as he was alive. _Alive to see the two people I love most in this world or any other,_ he thought.

Jem was pulled from his thoughts when Brother Enoch _spoke_ again. _Let us continue._

"Yes, Brother Enoch," Jem said, resuming his defensive position.

...

Tessa-

Tessa woke slowly, as if consciousness were at the end of a long, dark corridor and she were walking toward it at a snail's pace, her hand outstretched. Finally she reached it, and swung the door open to reveal—

Blinding light. It was golden light, not pale like witch light. She sat up and looked around her. _Where in the name of the Angel am I?_ Tessa thought, absolutely bewildered.

She was in a simple brass bed, with a deep feather tick spread over a second mattress, and a wavy eiderdown quilt on top. The room she was in looked as if it had been hollowed out of a cave. There was a tall dresser, and a washstand with a blue jug on it; there was also a wardrobe, its door hanging open just enough that Tessa could see garments hung inside. There were no windows in the room, though there was a fireplace in which a cheerful blaze burned. On either side of the fireplace were hung portraits.

She slid from the bed and winced as her bare feet encountered cold stone. It was not as painful as she would have expected, though, given her battered state. Glancing down, she had two quick shocks: the first was that she was wearing nothing but an oversize black silk dressing gown. The second was that her cuts and bruises seemed to have largely disappeared. She still felt slightly sore, but her skin, pale against the black silk, was unmarked. Touching her hair, she felt that it was clean and loose around her shoulders, no longer matted with mud and blood.

That did leave the question of who had cleaned her, healed her, and put her in this bed. Tessa remembered nothing beyond struggling with the automatons in the small farmhouse while Mrs. Black laughed. Eventually one of them had choked her into unconsciousness and a merciful darkness had come. Still, the idea of Mrs. Black undressing and bathing her was horrible, though not perhaps as horrible as the idea of Mortmain doing it. _Dear God, I hope not!_ Tessa thought.

Most of the furniture in the room was grouped on one side of the cave. The other side was largely bare, though she could see the black rectangle of a doorway cut into the far wall. After a brief glance around she made her way toward it—

Only to find herself, halfway across the room, brought up bruisingly short. She staggered back, gathering her dressing gown more tightly about her, her forehead stinging where she had smacked it on _something._ Gingerly she reached out, tracing the air in front of her.

And she felt solid hardness if front of her, as if a perfectly clear glass wall stood between her and the other side of the room. She flattened her hands against it. Invisible it might be, but it was as hard as adamant. She moved her hands up, wondering how high it could possibly go—

"I wouldn't bother," said a cold, familiar voice from the door. "The configuration stretches all the way across the cave, from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. You are completely immured behind it."

Tessa had been stretching upward; at that, she dropped to her feet and backed up a step.

Mortmain.

He was exactly as she recalled him. A wiry man, not tall, with a weathered face and a neatly clipped beard. Extraordinarily ordinary, save for his eyes, as cold and gray as a winter snowstorm. He wore a dove-colored suit, not overly formal, the sort of thing a gentleman might wear to an afternoon at the club. His shoes were polished to a high shine.

Tessa said nothing, only drew the black dressing gown closer about her. It was voluminous, and concealed her whole body, but without the underpinnings of chemise and corset, stockings and bustle, she felt naked and exposed. The dressing gown felt like armor to her and she clutched to it for dear life.

"Do not panic yourself," Mortmain went on. "You cannot reach me through the wall, but neither can I reach you. Not without dissolving the spell itself, and that would take time." He paused. "I wished for you to feel safer." _As if I would_ ever _feel "safer" with him!_

"If you wished me to be safe, you would have left me at the Institute." Tessa's tone was bone-chillingly cold.

Mortmain said nothing to that, only cocked his head and squinted at her, like a sailor squinting at the horizon. "My condolences on the death of your brother. I never meant for that to happen."

Tessa felt her mouth twist into a terrible shape. It had been two months since Nate had died in her arms, but she had not forgotten, or forgiven. "I don't want your pity. Or your good wishes. You made him a tool of yours, and then he died. It was your fault, as surely as if you had shot him in the street."

"I suppose it would avail little to point out that he was the one who sought me out." _The audacity of this man!_ Tessa was outraged.

"He was just a _boy,"_ Tessa said. She wanted to sink to her knees, wanted to pound against the invisible barrier with her fists, but she held herself upright and cold. "He was not even twenty." She thought of how composed Charlotte always kept herself, and Tessa felt she would be proud of her in the way she faced Mortmain.

Mortmain slid his hands into his pockets. "Do you know what it was like for me, when I was a boy?" he said, in as calm a tone as if he had been seated beside her at a dinner party and forced to make conversation.

Tessa thought of the images she had seen in Aloysius Starkweather's mind.

 _The man was tall, broad-shouldered—and as green-skinned as a lizard. His hair was black. The child he held by the hand, by contrast, seemed as normal as a child could be—small, chubby-fisted, pink-skinned._

 _Tessa knew the man's name, because Starkweather knew it._

 _John Shade._

 _Shade hoisted the child up onto his shoulders as through the door of the house spilled a number of odd-looking metal creatures, like a child's jointed dolls, but human-size, and with skin made of shining metal. The creatures were featureless. Though, oddly, they wore clothes—the rough workman's coveralls of a Yorkshire farmer on some, and on others plain muslin dresses. The automatons joined hands and began to sway as if they were at a country dance. The child laughed and clapped his hands._

 _"Look well on this, my son," said the green-skinned man, "for one day I shall rule a clockwork kingdom of such beings, and you shall be its prince."_

"I know your adoptive parents were warlocks," she said. "I know that they cared for you. I know that your father invented the clockwork creatures with which you are so enamored."

"And you know what happened to them."

 _—a room torn apart, cogs and cams and gears and ripped metal everywhere, fluid leaking as black as blood, and the green-skinned man and blue-haired woman lying dead among the ruins—_

Tessa looked away. She couldn't stand to remember the horror of that memory of Starkweather's a moment longer.

"Let me tell you about my childhood," Mortmain said. "Adoptive parents, you call them, but they were as much my parents as any amount of blood could make them. They raised me up with care and love, just as yours did you." He gestured toward the fireplace, and Tessa realized with a dull shock that the portraits that hung on either side were portraits of her own parents: her fair-haired mother, and her thoughtful-looking father with his brown eyes and tie askew. "And then they were killed by Shadowhunters. My father wanted to create these beautiful automatons, these _clockwork creatures,_ as you call them. They would be the greatest machines ever invented, he dreamed, and they would protect Downworlders against the Shadowhunters who routinely murdered and stole from them. You saw the spoils in Starkweather's Institute." He spat the last words. "You saw pieces of my parents. He kept my mother's blood in a jar."

 _And the remains of warlocks. Mummified taloned hands, like Mrs. Black's. A stripped skull, utterly defleshed, human-looking save that it had tusks instead of teeth. Vials of sludgy-looking blood._

Tessa swallowed. _My mother's blood in a jar._ She could not say she did not understand his rage. And yet—she thought of Jem, his parents dying in front of him, his own life destroyed, and yet he had never sought revenge. "Yes, that was horrible," Tessa said. "But it does not excuse the things you've done."

A flicker of something deep in his eyes: rage, quickly tamped down. "Let me tell you what I've done," he said. "I have created an army. An army that, once the final piece of the puzzle is in place, will be invincible."

"And the final piece of the puzzle—" she said, fearing his inevitable answer.

"Is you," said Mortmain.

"You say that over and over, and yet you refuse to explain it," Tessa said. She was fed up with Mortmain and his entire vendetta hinging on _her_. "You demand my cooperation and yet you tell me nothing. You have me imprisoned here, sir, but you cannot force my speech with you, or my willingness if I choose not to give it—"

"You are half-Shadowhunter, half-demon," Mortmain said. "That is the first thing you should know."

Tessa, already half-turned away from him, froze.

"That is not possible. The offspring of Shadowhunters and demons are stillborn." _He must be lying,_ Tessa thought, _he has to be!_

"Yes, they are," he said. "They are. The blood of a Shadowhunter, the runes on the body of a Shadowhunter, are death to a warlock child in the womb. But _your mother was not Marked."_

"My mother was not a Shadowhunter!" Tessa looked wildly to the portrait of Elizabeth Gray over the fireplace. "Or are you saying she lied to my father, lied to everyone all her life—"

"She did not know," said Mortmain. "The Shadowhunters did not know it. There was no one to tell her. My father built your clockwork angel, you know. It was meant to be a gift for my mother. It contains within it a bit of the spirit of an angel, a rare thing, something he had carried with him since the Crusades. The mechanism itself was meant to be tuned to her life, so that every time her life was threatened the angel would intervene to protect her. However, my father never had a chance to finish it. He was murdered first." Mortmain began to pace. "My parents were not singled out for murder, of course. Starkweather and his kind delighted in slaughtering Downworlders—they grew rich off the spoils—and would take the slightest excuse to bring violence against them. For that he was hated by the Downworlder community. It was the faeries of the countryside who helped me escape when my parents were killed, and who hid me until the Shadowhunters stopped looking for me." He took a shuddering breath. "Years later, when they decided to have their revenge, I helped them. Institutes are protected against the ingress of Downworlders, but not against mundanes, and not, of course, against automatons."

He smiled a terrible smile. Tessa want to flinch it was so horrible, but she kept her expression the same. She didn't want to show the smallest weakness to Mortmain.

"It was I, with the help of one of my father's inventions, who crept into the York Institute and switched the baby in the crib there for one of mundane descent. Starkweather's granddaughter, Adele."

"Adele," Tessa whispered. "I saw a portrait of her." _A very young girl with long, fair hair, dressed in an old-fashioned child's dress, a great ribbon surmounting her small head. Her face was thin and pale and sickly, but her eyes were bright._

"She died when the first runes were put on her," said Mortmain with relish. "Died screaming, as so many Downworlders had before at the hands of Shadowhunters. Now they had killed one they come to love. A fitting retribution."

Tessa stared at him in horror. _This man is utterly insane!_ she thought. How could anyone think that to die in agony was fitting retribution for an innocent child? She thought of Jem again, his hands gentle on his violin...and on her body.

"Elizabeth, your mother, grew up not knowing she was a Shadowhunter. No runes were given to her. I followed her progress, of course, and when she married Richard Gray, I made sure I employed him. I believed that the lack of runes on your mother meant that she could conceive a child who was half-demon, half-Shadowhunter, and to test that theory I sent a demon to her in the shape of your father. She never knew the difference."

Only the emptiness in Tessa's stomach kept her from being sick. "You—did _what—_ to my mother? A demon? I am half-demon?" Horror filled her, not so much for herself, but for her mother, for what she must've gone through.

"He was a Greater Demon, if that comforts you." _No, it bloody well doesn't!_ Tessa thought as Mortmain continued. "Most of them were angels once. He was fair enough in his own aspect." Mortmain smirked. "Before your mother became pregnant, I had worked for years to finish my father's clockwork angel. I finished it, and after you were conceived, tuned it to _your_ life. My greatest invention."

"But why would my mother be willing to wear it?"

"To save you," said Mortmain. "Your mother realized that something was wrong when she became pregnant. To carry a warlock child is not like carrying a human child. I came to her then and gave her the clockwork angel. I told her that wearing it would save her child's life. She believed me. I was not lying. You are immortal, girl, but you are not invulnerable. You can be killed. The angel is tuned to your life; it is _designed_ to save you if you are dying. It may have saved you a hundred times before you were ever born, and it's saved you since. Think of the times you have been close to death. Think of the way it intervened."

Tessa thought back—the way her angel had flown at the automaton choking her, had fended off the blades of the creature that had attacked her near Ravenscar Manor, had kept her from being dashed to pieces on the rocks of the ravine. "But it did not save me from torture, nor injury." _Torture for_ your _benefit,_ she wanted to add, but didn't.

"No. For those are part of the human condition."

"So is death," said Tessa. "I am not human, and you let the Dark Sisters torture me. I could never forgive you for that. Even if you convinced me my brother's death was his fault, that Thomas's death was justified, that your hatred was reasonable, I could never forgive you for that."

Mortmain lifted the box at his feet and upended it. There was a rattling crash as cogs fell from it—cogs and cams and gears, sheared-off bits of metal smeared with black fluid, and lastly, bouncing atop the rest of the rubbish like a child's red rubber ball, a severed head.

Mrs. Black's.

"I destroyed her," he said. "For you. I wished to show you I am sincere, Miss Gray."

"Sincere in what?" Tessa demanded. "Why did you do all this? _Why did you create me?"_ This was the question she wanted answered above all.

His lips twitched slightly; it was not a smile, not really. "For two purposes. The first is so that you could bear children."

"But warlocks cannot..."

"No," said Mortmain. "But you are no ordinary warlock. In you the blood of demons and the blood of angels has fought its own war in Heaven, and the angels have been victorious. You are not a Shadowhunter, but you are not a warlock, either. You are something new, something entirely other. _Shadowhunters,"_ he spat. "All Shadowhunters and demon hybrids die, and the Nephilim are proud of it, glad that their blood will never be filthied, their lineage tainted by magic. But _you._ You can do magic. You can have children like any other woman. Not for some years yet, but when you reach your full maturity. The greatest warlocks alive have assured me of it. Together we will start a new race, with the Shadowhunters' beauty and with no warlock mark. It will be a race that will break the Shadowhunters' arrogance by replacing them on this earth."

Tessa's legs gave out. She slumped to the floor, her dressing gown pooling around her like black water. Horror filled her as Mortmain's words registered in her brain. She _could_ have children. _But Jem—we—and not just once!_ she thought, panic rising within her. Finally her mind realized next that he'd said she couldn't conceive _yet._ At least there was relief in that. Then she processed what he'd said last. _Together we will start a new race..._

"You—you want to use me to _breed your children?"_ She would rather die than let Mortmain touch her like _that!_

Now he did grin. "I am not a man without honor," he said. "I offer you marriage. I always planned that." He gestured at the pitiful pile of ragged metal and flesh that had been Mrs. Black. "If I can have your willing participation, I would prefer it. And I can promise I shall deal thus with all your enemies."

 _My enemies._ She thought of Nate, his hand closing on hers as he died, bloody, in her lap. She thought of Jem again, the way he never railed against his fate but faced it down bravely; she thought of Charlotte, who wept over Jessamine, though Jessie had betrayed her; and she thought of Will, who had laid down his heart for her and Jem to walk upon because he loved them more than he loved himself.

There was human goodness in the world, she thought—all caught up with desire and dreams, regrets and bitterness, resentments and powers, but it was there, and Mortmain would never see it.

"You will never understand," she said. "You say that you build, that you invent, but I know an inventor—Henry Branwell—and you are nothing like him. He brings things to life; you just destroy. And now you bring me another dead demon, as if it were flowers rather than more death. You have no feelings, Mr. Mortmain, no empathy for anyone. If I had not known it before, it would have been made abundantly clear when you tried to use James Carstairs's illness to force me to come here. Though he is dying because of you, he wouldn't allow me to come—wouldn't take your _yin fen._ That's how _good_ people behave." A pang of yearning went through her as she mentioned Jem, for his steadfast love of her, how he made her feel safe and loved.

She saw the look on his face. Disappointment. It was only there for a moment, though, before it was wiped away with a shrewd look. "Wouldn't allow you to come?" he said. "So I did not misjudge you; you would have done it. Would have come to me, here, out of love."

"Not love for you." _Never for you!_ her mind screamed.

"No," he said thoughtfully, "not for me," and he drew from his pocket an object that Tessa recognized immediately.

 _She stared at the watch he held out to her, dangling on its gold chain. It was clearly unwound. The hands had long ago stopped spinning, the time seemingly frozen at midnight. The initials_ J.T.S. _were carved on the back in elegant script._ Tessa couldn't imagine why this watch was so important.

"I said there were two reasons I created you," he said. "This is the second. There are shape-shifters in the world: demons and magicians who can take on the appearance of others. But only you can truly _become_ someone else. This watch was my father's. John Thaddeus Shade. I beg of you to take this watch and Change into my father so I may speak with him one more time. If you do that, I will send all the _yin fen_ I have in my possession—and it is a considerable amount—to James Carstairs."

"He will not take it," Tessa said immediately, knowing how pointless this offer was.

"Why not?" His tone was reasonable. "You are no longer a condition of the drug. It is a gift, freely given. It would be foolish to throw it away, and avail nothing. Whereas by doing this small thing for me, you may well save his life. What do you say to that, Tessa Gray?"

...

The chair Tessa sat in had a high, carved wooden back, hammered through with massive nails, the dull ends of which poked into her back. In front of her was a wide desk, weighed down by books on one end. Before her on the desk was a clean tablet of paper, a jar of ink, and a quill. Beside the paper sat John Shade's pocket watch.

On either side of her stood two massive automatons. Little effort had been expended to make them resemble humans. She supposed it wasn't worth the effort since they were not out among the human population. Each was nearly triangular, with thick arms protruding from either side of their bodies, each arm ending in a razor-sharp blade. They were frightening enough, but Tessa could not help but feel that if Will were there, he would have commented that they looked like turnips, and perhaps made up a song about it. _What I wouldn't give to have Will here singing a ridiculous song_ , she thought longingly.

"Take up the watch," said Mortmain. "And Change." His insistence was beginning to scare her. She understood that he wanted to speak to his father again, but she felt there might be more to this than he was telling her.

He sat across from her, in a chair much like her, with the same high curving back. They were in another cave room, which she had been led to by automatons; the only light in the room came from an enormous fireplace, large enough to roast an entire cow in. Mortmain's face was cast into shadows, his fingers steepled below his chin.

Tessa lifted the watch. It felt heavy and cool in her hands. She closed her eyes.

She had only Mortmain's word that he had sent the _yin fen,_ and yet she believed him. He had no reason not to do it, after all. What difference did it make to him whether Jem Carstairs lived a little longer? It had only ever been a bargaining tool to her into his hands, and here she was, _yin fen_ or not.

She heard Mortmain's breath hiss out between his teeth, and she tightened her fingers' grip on the watch. It seemed to throb suddenly in her grasp, the way the clockwork angel sometimes did, as if it had its own life within it. She felt her hand jerk, and then suddenly the Change was on her—without her having to will it or reach for it as she usually did. She gave a little gasp as she felt the Change take her like a harsh wind, pushing her down and under. John Shade was suddenly all around her, his presence enveloping hers. Pain drove up her arm, and she let go of the watch. It thumped to the desk, but the Change was unstoppable. Her shoulders broadened under the dressing gown, her fingers turning green, the color spreading up her body like verdigris over copper.

Her head jerked upright. She felt heavy, as if an enormous weight were pressing on her. Looking down, she saw that she had a man's heavy arms, the skin a dark, textured green, the hands large and curved. A feeling of panic rose in her, but it was tiny, a small spark within an immense gulf of darkness. She had never been so lost inside a Change before. _What the hell is happening to me?!?_

Mortmain had sat upright. He was staring at her fixedly, his firm lips compressed, his eyes shining with a hard dark light. "Father," he said.

Tessa did not answer. Could not answer. The voice that rose within her was not hers; it was Shade's. "My clockwork prince," Shade said.

The light in Mortmain's eyes grew. He leaned forward, pushing the papers eagerly across the table toward Tessa. "Father," he said. "I need your help, and quickly. I have a Pyxis. I have the means to open it. I have the automaton bodies. I need only the spell you created, the binding spell. Write it down for me, and I will have the last piece of the puzzle."

The tiny flare of panic inside Tessa was growing and spreading. This was no touching reunion between father and son. This was something Mortmain wanted, needed from the warlock John Shade. _I can't let him complete whatever this is!_ She began to struggle, to try to extricate herself from the Change, but it held her with a grip like iron. Not since the Dark Sisters had trained her had she been unable to extricate herself from a Change, but though John Shade was dead, she could feel the steely hold of his will on her, keeping her prisoned in his body and forcing that body into action. In horror she saw her own hand reach for the pen, dip the nib in the ink, and begin to write.

The pen scratched across the paper. Mortmain leaned forward. He was breathing hard, as if running. Behind him the fire crackled, high and orange in the grate. "That is it," he said, his tongue licking over his bottom lip. "I can see how that would work, yes. Finally. That's it exactly."

Tessa stared. What was coming from her pen seemed a stream of gibberish to her: numbers, signs, and symbols she could not comprehend. Again she tried to struggle, succeeding only in blotting the page. There went the pen again—ink, paper, more scratching. The hand that held the pen was shaking violently, but the symbols continued to flow. Tessa began to bite her lip: hard, then harder. She tasted blood in her mouth. Some of the blood dripped onto the page. The pen continued to write through it, smearing scarlet fluid across the page.

"That is it," Mortmain said. "Father—"

The nib of the pen snapped, as loud as a gunshot, echoing off the walls of the cave. The pen fell broken from Tessa's hand, and she slumped back against the chair, exhausted. The green was draining from her skin, her body was shrinking, her own brown hair was tumbling loose over her shoulders. She could still taste blood in her mouth. "No," she gasped, and reached for the papers. "No—"

But her movements were made slow by pain and the Change, and Mortmain was faster. Laughing, he snatched the papers out from under her hand and rose to his feet. "Very good," he said. "Thank you, my little warlock girl. You have given me everything I need. Automatons, escort Miss Gray back to her room."

A metal hand closed on the back of Tesas's gown and lifted her to her feet. The world seemed to swing dizzily in front of her. She saw Mortmain reach down and lift up the gold watch that had fallen on the table.

He smiled at it, a feral, vicious smile. "I will make you proud, Father," he said. "Never doubt it."

Tessa, no longer able to bear watching, closed her eyes. _What have I done?_ she thought as the automaton began to push her from the room. _My god, what have I done?_

 _..._

 _ **Phew, that was a long chapter! There was so much from Tessa already and I wanted to add more from Jem as well. I've always been disappointed there wasn't more of Jem during this time in the book. I hope you like what I've imagined what some of that time may have been. :)**_


	23. Only Noble To Be Good

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to The Infernal Devices and Cassandra Clare.

Only Noble To Be Good

Jem-

Once again Jem was laying in the small cot in his little room. It had been a long day of training and Jem _was_ tired, but he couldn't seem to shut his mind off yet. He tried to ignore what he really wanted to think about by running through his routine of the day. Despite that his body had been 'arrested' at this current time in his life, he still became hungry, still needed sleep, still had normal bodily functions. His Conversion was still incomplete so there would still be a few more days of this happening.

As a result of the hard training of the day Jem had washed up before eating a simple meal and then retired for bed. Thinking he would fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow Jem was disappointed it hadn't happened. Now he was wishing he had brought a book with him. Unfortunately it wouldn't be a novel, which would prove to be better at distracting him, but would be a book of some sort pertaining to the Brotherhood. Boring as it might be, it would still serve to keep his mind occupied, at least.

If his mind was otherwise engaged, it would keep Jem from thinking about Tessa, Will, Will _and_ Tessa, or Charlotte and Henry, or what was happening at the Institute and any other number of things that would make his heart pang with longing. He knew it had only been a couple of days since he'd left the Institute, but in many ways it felt like years had passed. It felt so isolating in the Silent City, the most frequent contact with another human being had been with Brother Enoch and even that was sparingly. He positively ached for conversation, for _normal_ conversation. Regardless of the fact that Jessmine had betrayed them all, he now felt a new sympathy for her and the very lonely months she must've spent in her jail cell here.

The ache was significantly less than Jem had thought it would be, though. It was due to his Conversion. Already his emotions felt dulled, a numbness descending upon him. In one way he felt grateful for it, it meant that his pain was less. And the longer he was a Silent Brother the more numb he would become. He wondered that since he wouldn't be a _typical_ Silent Brother if it meant his numbness would be lesser as well, he was unsure if that would be an advantage or disadvantage. He supposed only time would tell, and time he would now have an abundance of.

The irony struck Jem anew. Since meeting Tessa Gray Jem had wanted nothing more than more time, especially after they had become engaged. Now he _did_ have more time, but it could not, could _never,_ be spent with Tessa. He knew that life was not fair, he'd learned that the hard way after losing his parents and the dependency upon the _yin fen,_ the substance that kept him alive but would eventually kill him (oh, the irony) _,_ but he'd never thought life would be quite _this_ awful. It was a cruel twist of fate.

Unbidden, the memory of the last morning with Tessa came to Jem...

Jem awoke to the feeling of absolute peace, a peace he hadn't felt in such a long time. Regardless of the fact that he hadn't opened his eyes yet, Jem knew he was in Tessa's room. The warm body pressed against his was enough of an indication. But he felt that even if she wasn't in his arms, he would still know. He couldn't explain how, but he just _knew_. It was like his body was so attuned to her presence that he would _always_ know when she was near, whether she was in his line of sight or not.

Tessa's breathing was slow and deep so Jem knew she was still asleep. There was just enough light in the room that he surmised it wasn't much past dawn. He would need to leave soon, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to move quite yet. Very comfortable next to Tessa, he inhaled the scent of her hair and let the memories of the night before flood over him, smiling at every wonderful detail. He relived the feeling of Tessa's bare skin against his, the sensation of moving within her, the pleasure of completion.

Just the thought had Jem's member coming to life with desire again. He was glad that he didn't feel embarrassed by it. Yes, they had made love before marriage, but it had been too beautiful, too special, to feel shame over it. They loved each other and would hopefully be married today. Or by tomorrow, at the very least _. Then we can wake up like this for however many mornings I have left upon this earth,_ he thought with much satisfaction.

Jem became aware that Tessa was beginning to stir beside him. Her head nuzzled into the pillow and she made the most adorable sound he'd ever heard, as if she were complaining to waking up and was trying to will herself back to sleep. He couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped him. Tessa stopped moving and he was sure she was confused, most likely about to panic at finding herself not alone in her bed. He was pleasantly surprised when she turned to him with bright eyes and a cheerful smile.

"Jem," she happily sighed. "I thought you would have gone back to your room by now."

"Are you disappointed I didn't?" Jem asked.

A look of horror crossed her face. "Of course not!" She cried out.

Jem couldn't stop his grin. "I was only teasing you, Tessa." He could see she sagged in relief. Now he felt bad for his teasing attitude. "I'm sorry," he said, sincerity in every word, "I didn't—"

"It's all right, I overreacted. I just don't understand why you would think I would have _wanted_ you to already be gone." Tessa said, her facial expression frowning.

"Well, I just wasn't sure how early Sophie would be here and I assumed that you would prefer to not," Jem paused, blushing slightly, "that you would prefer to not have to explain my presence in your bedchamber, in the same bed, without—without being properly attired." He blushed further at his last few words.

"Oh," Tessa said simply. " _Ohhh,"_ she said again, realizing exactly what Jem implied. She blushed as much as he had, knowing their embarrassment would be great indeed.

A look of determination swiftly replaced the one of embarrassment. "I'm not sorry though, and I wouldn't apologize for what happened." Tessa raised her hand, softly touching his cheek. "I would not change it, Jem. Despite that we are not married yet, I do not regret making love with you last night." There was no hint of embarrassment in her tone.

The significance of what Tessa said was not lost on Jem. Yes, it was beyond propriety to have had sexual relations before marriage, even for an engaged couple, but Jem felt the same. There would never be a second he could ever bring himself to regret making love with Tessa before they were married, regardless of how frowned upon it would be.

Jem was so overcome with his love for Tessa that he didn't say anything. He only leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Tessa's surprise quickly wore off and she kissed him back. One kiss led to two, two to three and so on. He'd meant for the kiss to be one of love and gratitude before he left for his own room. If Jem was completely honest, though, he much preferred Tessa pressing herself to him and kissing him deeper to going back to his empty bedchamber.

As had the night before, the kisses between Jem and Tessa took on a life of their own. Not that he was complaining, not one bit. Tessa moaned in the back of her throat as she opened her mouth to him, his tongue sliding along hers. This, in turn, made Jem wrap his arm around her as he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. Their tongues danced together while Tessa fully stretched her body over his. There was no hesitantancy or bashfulness of the night before. They both knew what awaited them and were both eager to reach that destination again.

 _The journey shouldn't be taken for granted, however,_ Jem thought wickedly, rolling to hover above Tessa. He ran his tongue down her body until he reached the hard peak at her breast, feeling her shiver as he swirled his tongue around her nipple. He smiled before taking the peak into his mouth and sucking, loving the sound of her gasp, loving how her back arched. Her fingers plunged into his hair, the light scraping of her fingernails on his scalp sending the sensation of lightning straight to his nether region.

Jem's body was well aware of what pleasure there was to be had in lovemaking and was swelling, at an almost embarrassingly rapid rate, with desire. However much he would have liked to have taken his time with Tessa again, to savor every moment, his body was just not having it. And neither was she, if her actions were any indication. One hand was fisted in his hair, the other flexing at his shoulder, her legs wrapped around his waist already. It was her moans, seemingly uncontrolled at this point, which was undermining the very thin control Jem had over himself.

Jem switched his mouth to her other breast, sucking hard on the stiffened peak, causing Tessa to cry out. Jem knew he should be concerned with the noise they were making, but knowing was a far cry away from doing, and he couldn't bring himself to try to quiet her as he'd done last night. No, this time he _wanted_ to hear her, _needed_ to hear her, to know that she was enjoying this just as much as he was. There were no sweeter sounds than Tessa letting her pleasure, pleasure he brought her, be voiced. It only added to his own desire for her.

Unable to deny his body anymore Jem rose up over Tessa and plunged deep inside of her, sheathing himself to the hilt. He groaned loudly as her wet heat enveloped him. His body was spurring him onwards, but he took a moment to just relish the feeling of being buried inside Tessa. There truly was no other feeling like it in the world. It was one Jem would be happy to lose himself in forever.

Jem's member twitched, reminding him they were far from done. Tessa had the same idea for she tugged on his hair, urging him to move. He withdrew and surged forward, again and again. Where the night before had been slow and sweet, this morning's lovemaking was fast, yet still gentle. The room was filled with the sounds of panting, soft moans, and the rustling of covers. It was a melody sweeter than any he could've ever produced from his violin.

Aware that his body was fast approaching climax, Jem moved his hand between their bodies, tangling his fingers in her soft curls before sliding inside to find the little bud that was the center of her pleasure. As soon as he touched it Tessa arched her body into him, her fingers contracting on his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. The slight pain only increased his arousal, the pace of his thrusts increasing. It didn't take long, only a few twirls of his finger and a little more pressure, until Tessa's whole body stiffened, her walls clenching around him. "James!" she cried.

Jem's orgasm descended upon him fast and hard. He gave a quick shout as he released his seed, collapsing atop Tessa. His forehead rested on her shoulder, neither saying anything, each trying to catch their breath. Once their breathing was calmed, Jem knew he needed to leave. He should've left long ago and he hoped he would not run into Sophie, or anyone else, as he snuck back to his room. Granted, it was only a few steps across the hall, but it was still enough time for someone to see him.

Lifting his head Jem chastely kissed Tessa's cheek. With a whisper of, "I shall see you at breakfast, my love," Jem rose from the bed and quickly donned his trousers and shirt, gathering the rest of his clothing in his arms. He looked back at the bed, his hand frozen on the doorknob. The sight he saw would forever, however long that might be, be seared into his mind. Tessa was still flushed with the remnants of their lovemaking, her hair mussed around her face, her eyes shining with love. It would be a memory which he would take out often, unbeknownst at the time, and would get him through his long, mostly lonely, life for many years to come.

Thankfully, Jem made it to his room without issue. He took a moment to just appreciate life. For all of the horrible things that could happen to a person, there were some things that were so good they would always outweigh the bad with just how simply _good_ they were. And that more than anything made Jem smile. It didn't matter he was facing certain death within a week, or possibly sooner. It didn't matter the automaton army and Mortmain was hanging over their heads. There was absolutely nothing on this glorious morning that could dampen his mood. With a huge grin on his face Jem began his preparations to start the day. He couldn't wait to announce his and Tessa's news at breakfast!

It would only be a few short hours later when James Carstairs's world completely, heartbreakingly, crumbled around him.

...

Deep within the mountain of Cadair Idris, Tessa awoke with a start, almost as if their minds were linked, from the same 'memory' Jem was remembering. Hers was in dream form however, and she had woke just seconds after her climax. It took a few moments before she realized that it had just been a dream. _Oh, Jem,_ she thought. Longing pierced Tessa so fiercely that she curled herself into a tight ball, sobbing into her pillow, pouring all of her grief into the tears, until she fell into a restful sleep.

It was a restful sleep her body much needed, as if it could anticipate the horrors which awaited her upon waking.

 **So there was actually nothing at all from Jem or Tessa in this chapter so I hope you enjoyed what I came up with. :)**


	24. For This Alone

For This Alone

Tessa-

 _Tessa stood at the edge of a precipice in a country she did not know. The hills about her were green, dropping off sharply into cliffs that sheered down toward a blue sea. Seabirds wheeled and cawed about her. A gray path wound like a snake along the edge of the cliff top. Just ahead of her, on the path, stood Will._

 _He wore black gear, and over it a long black riding coat, spattered with mud at the hem as if he had been walking a long way. He was without hat or gloves, and his dark hair was tousled by the wind off the sea. The wind lifted Tessa's hair as well, brining the scent of salt and brine, of the wet things that grow at the edge of the sea, a smell that reminded her of her sea voyage on the_ Main.

 _"Will!" she called out. There was something so lonely about the figure he cut, like Tristan watching across the Irish Sea for the ship that would bear Isolde back to him. Will did not turn around at the sound of her voice, only raised his arms, his coat lifting in the wind, sweeping out behind him like wings._

 _Fear rose up in her heart. Isolde had come for Tristian, but it had been too late. He had died of grief. "Will!" she called again._

 _He stepped forward, off the cliff. She raced to the edge and looked down, but there was nothing there, only plunging gray-blue water and white surf. The tide seemed to carry his voice to her with each surge of water._ "Awake, Tessa. Awake."

...

"Awake, Miss Gray. Miss Gray!"

Tessa jerked upright. _Will?_ she thought. _Where was he?_ Her mind was groggy. She had fallen asleep in the chair by the fireplace in her small prison; a coarse blue blanket was drawn over her, though she did not remember procuring it. The room burned with torchlight and the coals of the fire were low. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night. _How could I?_ she asked herself, remembering she was in the middle of a mountain.

Mortmain stood before her, and beside him was an automaton. It was one of the more humanoid that Tessa had seen. It was even clothed, as not many of them were, this one in a military tunic and trousers. The clothes made the head that rose above the stiff collar look even more uncanny, with its too-smooth features and bald metallic scalp. And its eyes—she knew they were glass and crystal, the irises red in the firelight but the way they seemed to fix on her—

"You're cold," Mortmain said. _As if he truly cares!_

Tessa exhaled, and her breath came out in a white puff. "The warmth of your hospitality leaves something to be desired." She didn't care that she was being rude. That point had come and gone long ago.

He smiled, thin-lipped. "Very amusing." He himself was wearing a heavy astrakhan coat over a gray suit, ever the businessman. "Miss Gray, I do not wake you lightly. I came because I wish you to see what your kind assistance with my father's memories has allowed me to accomplish." He gestured proudly at the automaton by his side.

"Another automaton?" Tessa said without interest.

"How rude of me." Mortmain's eyes flicked to the creature. "Introduce yourself."

The creature's mouth opened; Tessa caught a flash of brass. It spoke. "I am Armaros," it said. "For a billion years I rode the winds of the great abysses between the worlds. I fought Jonathan Shadowhunter on the plains of Brocelind. For a thousand more years I lay trapped within the Pyxis. Now my master has freed me and I serve him."

Tessa rose, the blanket sliding to her feet, unheeded. The automaton was watching her. Its eyes—its eyes were full of a dark intelligence, a consciousness that no automaton she had seen before had ever possessed.

"What is this?" she said in a whisper. She feared she already knew the answer.

"An automaton body animated by a demon spirit. Downworlders already have their ways of capturing demon energies and using them. I used them myself to power the automatons you've seen before. But Armaros and his brothers are different. They are demons with the carapaces of automatons. They can think and reason. They are not easily outwitted. And they are very difficult to kill."

Armaros reached across its body—Tessa could not help but note that it moved fluidly, smoothly, without the jerkiness of the automatons she had seen before. It moved like a person. It drew the sword that hung at its side and handed it to Mortmain. _What are they doing?_ She wanted to ask, but couldn't find her voice. The blade was covered in the runes that Tessa had become so familiar with over the last months, the runes that decorated the blades of all Shadowhunter weapons. The runes that made them Shadowhunter weapons. The runes were deadly to demons. Armaros should barely have been able to look upon the blade, much less hold it. This fact scared Tessa more than she wanted to admit, even to herself.

Her stomach clenched. The demon gave the sword to Mortmain, who handled it with the precision of a longtime naval officer. He spun the blade, swept it forward, and drove it into the demon's chest.

There was a sound of tearing metal. Tessa was used to seeing the automatons crumple when attacked, or spurt black fluid, or stagger. But the demon stood its ground, unblinking and unmoving, like a lizard in the sun. Mortmain twisted the hilt savagely, then jerked the weapon free.

Its blade crumbled to ash, like a log burned away in a fire.

"You see," said Mortmain. "They are an army designed to destroy Shadowhunters." Horror suffused every part of her being.

Armaros was the only automaton Tessa had ever seen smile; she did not know their faces had been built to accomplish such a purpose. The demon said, "They have destroyed many of my kind. It will be a pleasure to kill them all."

Tessa swallowed hard but tried not to let the Magister see it. She didn't want him to see how scared she was. His gaze was flicking back and forth from her to the demon automaton, and it was hard for her to say which he looked more delighted to lay eyes on. She wanted to scream, to throw herself at him and claw his face. But the invisible wall lay between them, shimmering slightly, and she knew she could not breach it.

 _Oh, you are to be more than his bride, Miss Gray,_ Mrs. Black had said. _You are to be the ruin of the Nephilim. That is why you were created._ Tessa understood her words all too well now.

"The Shadowhunters will not be so easily destroyed," she said. "I have seen them cut apart your automatons. Perhaps these cannot be felled by their runed weapons, but any blade can shear metal and cut wires."

Mortmain shrugged. "Shadowhunters are not used to battling creatures against whom their runed weapons are useless. It will slow them. And there are countless of these automatons. It will be like trying to beat back the tide." He cocked his head to the side. "You see, now, the genius of what I have invented? But I must thank you, Miss Gray, for that last piece of the puzzle. I thought perhaps even you might be...admiring...of what we have created together."

 _Admiring?_ She looked in his eyes for mockery, but there was something of a sincere question there, curiosity mixed with the coldness. She thought of how long it must have been since he had had the praise of another human being, and took a deep breath. _I can do this,_ she said to herself.

"You are obviously a great inventor," she said. She was proud she didn't hesitate or choke on the words.

Mortmain smiled, pleased.

Tessa was aware of the gaze of the mechanical demon on her, its tension and readiness, but she was more aware of Mortmain. He was the bigger threat at that moment. Her heart was beating hard inside her chest. She seemed, as she had in her dream, poised on the edge of a precipice. To speak to Mortmain like this was chancy, and she would either fall or fly. But she must take the chance, so many lives depended on it. "I see why you have brought me here," she said. "And it is not just because of your father's secrets."

There was anger in his eyes, but also a certain confusion. She was not behaving as he had expected her to behave. _Good,_ she thought. _I need to throw him off as much as I can._ "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You are lonely," she said. "You have surrounded yourself with creatures that are not real, that do not live. We see our own souls in the eyes of others. How long has it been since you have seen that you have a soul?" She waited for his answer.

Mortmain's eyes narrowed. "I had a soul. It has been burned away by what I have dedicated my life to: the pursuit of justice and recompense."

"Do not seek revenge and call it justice."

The demon gave a low chuckle, though there was contempt in it, as if he were watching the antics of a kitten. "You would let her speak to you like that, Master?" he said. "I can cut out her tongue for you, silence her forever." _Let him try!_ She vowed she would not go down without a fight!

"It would serve nothing to mutilate her. She has powers you know not of," said Mortmain, his eyes still on Tessa. _Ah, yes, my_ powers _. He wouldn't want to_ waste _those,_ she thought bitterly. His voice pulled her attention back to him. "There is an old saying in China—perhaps your beloved fiancé familiarized you with it—that states. 'A man may not live under the same Heaven with the slayer of his father.' I shall erase the Shadowhunters from under Heaven; they will no longer live upon the earth. Do not seek to appeal to my better nature, Tessa, for I have none."

Tessa could not help herself—she thought of _A Tale of Two Cities,_ of Lucie Manette's appeals to Sydney Carton's better nature. She had always thought of Will as Sydney, consumed by sin and despair against his own better knowledge, even against his own desire. But Will was a good man, a much better one than Carton had ever been. And Mortmain was barely a man at all. It was not his better nature she appealed to but his vanity: All men thought of themselves as good in the end, surely. No one believed themselves a villain. She took a breath. "Surely that is not so—surely you might again be worthy and good. You have done what you set out to do. You have brought life and intelligence to these—these Infernal Devices of yours. You have created that which might destroy the Shadowhunters. All your life you have pursued justice because you believed the Shadowhunters were corrupt and vicious. Now, if you stay your hand, you win the greatest victory. You show that you are better than they."

She searched Mortmain's face with her eyes. Surely there was some hesitation there—surely the thin lips were shaking slightly, surely there was the tension of doubt in his shoulders? _Please!_ Tessa begged of the universe.

His mouth quirked into a smile. "You think, then, that I can be a better man? And if I were to do as you say, to stay my hand, you would have me believe that you would stay with me out of admiration, that you would not return to the Shadowhunters?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Mortmain. I swear it." She swallowed against the bitterness in her throat. If she had to remain with Mortmain in order to save Will and Jem, to save Charlotte and Henry and Sophie, she would do it. "I believe you can find your better self; I believe we all can."

His thin lips turned up at the corners. "It is afternoon already, Miss Gray," he said. "I did not wish to wake you earlier. Come with me now, outside the mountain. Come and see this day's work, for there is something that I wish to show you."

A finger of ice touched her spine. She straightened.

"And what is that?"

His smile spread across his face. "What I have been waiting for." Her heart sank and dread filled her.

...

Tessa sat on the floor of her room in Mortmain's stronghold, staring numbly into the fire.

The flames played over her hands, the blue dress she wore. Both were stained with blood. She did not know how it happened; the skin at her wrist was ragged, and she had some memory of an automaton seizing her there, tearing her skin with its sharp metal fingers as she tried to break away.

She could not rid her mind of the images that dominated it—the memories of the destruction of the village in the valley. She had been taken there blindfolded, carried by automatons, before being unceremoniously dumped onto an outcropping of gray rock with a view directly down into the town. She had no idea what she'd been doing there, but she knew it couldn't be anything good. Nothing with Mortmain ever was.

"Watch," Mortmain had said, not looking at her, only gloating. "Watch, Miss Gray, and then speak to me of redemption." His tone made her sick to her stomach.

Tessa had stood prisoned, an automaton holding her from behind, a hand over her mouth, Mortmain murmuring softly under his breath the things he would do to her if she dared to look away from the village. She had watched helplessly as the automatons had marched into the town, cutting down innocent men and women in the streets. The moon had risen tinged red as the clockwork army had methodically set fire to house after house, slaughtering the families as they poured forth in confusion and terror.

And Mortmain had laughed.

"You see now," he had said. "These creatures, the creations, they are capable of thought and reason and strategy. Like humans. And yet they are indestructible. Look, there, at that fool with the rifle."

Tessa had not wanted to look, but she had had no choice. She had watched, dry-eyed and grim, as a distant figure had raised a rifle to defend himself. The blasts had knocked some of the automatons back but had not disabled them. They had kept coming at him, knocking his rifle from his hand, pushing him down into the street.

And then they had torn him apart. _Oh, my god,_ she'd thought, frozen in horror.

"Demons," Mortmain had murmured. "They are savage and they love to destroy."

She couldn't bear it anymore. "Please," Tessa had choked. "Please, no more, no more. I shall do whatever you desire, but please, spare the village." _What was left of it anyway,_ she'd added in her mind.

Mortmain had chuckled dryly. "Clockwork creatures have no hearts, Miss Gray," he'd said. "They do not have mercy, any more than fire or water do. You might as well beg a flood or a forest fire to cease its destruction."

"I am not begging them," she'd said. From the corner of her eye, she'd thought she'd seen a black horse pounding through the streets of the village, a rider on its back. Someone escaping the carnage, she'd prayed. "I am begging _you._ " _Please, please show me you have_ some _mercy, Mortmain!_ she had pleaded in her mind.

He'd turned his cold eyes on her, and they'd been as empty as the sky. She knew he would not stop the automatons. "There is no mercy in my heart either. You appealed, tiresomely, to my better self earlier. I brought you here to show you the futility of such action. I have no better self to appeal to; it was burned away years ago."

"But I have done what you asked," she'd said desperately. "There is no need for this, not for me—" Mortmain cut her off.

"It is not for you," he'd said, flicking his gaze away from her. "The automatons had to be tested before they were sent into battle. That is simple science. They have intelligence now. Strategy. Nothing can stand before them." _Battle? Battle where?_ she'd asked herself. She'd been desperate to say anything to shake his conviction.

"They will turn on you, then."

"They will not. Their lives are linked to mine. If I die, so are they destroyed. They must protect me to endure." His look had been cold and faraway. "Enough. I brought you here to show you that I am what I am, and you will accept it. Your clockwork angel protects your life, but the lives of other innocents are in my hands—in _your_ hands. Do not test me, and there will not be a second such village. I wish to hear no more tiresome protests."

 _Your clockwork angel protects your life._ She put her hand on it now, feeling the familiar ticking beneath her fingers. She closed her eyes, but terrible images lived behind her eyelids. She saw in her mind the Nephilim driven before the automatons as the village had been, Jem torn apart by clockwork monsters, Will stabbed through with metal blades, Henry and Charlotte burning... _This is my fault,_ she thought.

Her hand tightened savagely around the angel, and she tore it from her throat, casting it to the uneven rock floor just as a log fell in the fire, sending up a spitting column of red sparks. In their illumination she saw the palm of her left hand, saw the faint scar of the burn she had given herself the day she had told Will she was engaged to Jem.

As it had then, her hand went to the fireplace poker. There was a different intention this time. She lifted it, feeling its weight in her hand. The fire had climbed higher. She saw the world through a golden haze as she raised the poker and brought it down on the clockwork angel.

Iron though the poker was, it burst into metallic powder, a cloud of shining filaments that sifted to the floor, dusting the surface of the clockwork angel, which lay, untouched and undamamged, on the ground before her knees.

And then the angel began to shift and change. Its wings trembled, and its closed eyelids opened on bits of whitish quartz. From them poured thin beams of whitish light. Like in paintings of the star over Bethlehem, the light rose and rose, radiating spikes of light. Slowly it began to coalesce into a shape—the form of an angel. _What is happening?_ Tessa asked herself.

It was a shimmering blur of light so bright, it was difficult to look at directly. Tessa could see, through the light, the faint outline of something like a man. She could see eyes that were without iris or pupil—inset bits of crystal that gleamed in the firelight. The angel's wings were broad, spreading out from its shoulders, each feather tipped with gleaming metal. Its hands were folded over the hilt of a graceful sword.

Its blank shining eyes rested on her. _Why do you try to destroy me?_ Its voice was sweet, echoing in her mind like music. _I protect you._ She wondered if she was hallucinating.

She thought of Jem suddenly, propped on his bed of pillows, his face pale and gleaming. _There is more to life than living._ "It is not you I seek to destroy, but myself." She only hoped her death would be enough to stop Mortmain and his crusade of vengeance. The angelspoke to her again.

 _But why would you do that? Life is a gift._

"I seek to do right," she said. "In keeping me alive you are allowing a great evil to exist."

 _Evil._ The musical voice was thoughtful. _I have been so long in my clockwork prison that I have forgotten good and evil._ Tessa's heart broke for the being she was still not entirely sure was real.

"Clockwork prison?" Tessa whispered. "But how can an angel be prisoned?"

 _It was John Thaddeus Shade who imprisoned me. He caught my soul inside a spell and trapped it within this mechanical body._

"Like the Pyxis," Tessa said. "Only entrapping an angel instead of a demon." _How could someone do that to something as_ good _as an angel?_

 _I am an angel of the divine,_ said the angel, hovering before her. _I am brother to the Sijil, Kurabi, and the Zurah, the Fravashis, and Dakinis._

"And—is this your true form? Is this what you look like?"

 _You see here only a fraction of what I am. In my true form I am deadly glory. Mine was the freedom of Heaven, before I was trapped and bound to you._

"I am sorry," she whispered, not able to help but feel responsible.

 _You are not the one to blame. You did not imprison me. Our spirits are bound, it is true, but even as I protected you in the womb, I knew you were blameless._

This did not make her feel better. "My guardian angel."

 _Few can claim a single angel who guards them. But you can._

"I don't want to claim you," Tessa said. "I want to die on my own terms, not be forced to live on Mortmain's." It was the only choice she felt like she had left, and she didn't want it taken away from her. Even if it was an _angel_ which protected her.

 _I cannot let you die._ The angel's voice was full of grief. Tessa was reminded of Jem's violin, playing out the music of his heart. _It is my mandate._

Tessa raised her head. The firelight struck through the angel like sunlight through crystal, casting a radiance of color against the walls of the cave. This was no foul contraption; this was goodness, twisted and bent to Mortmain's will, but in its nature divine. "When you were an angel," she said, "what was your name?"

 _My name,_ said the angel, _was Ithuriel._

"Ithuriel," Tessa whispered, and held out her hand to the angel, as if she could reach him, comfort him somehow. But her fingers met only empty air. The angel shimmered and faded, leaving behind only a glow, a starburst of light against the inside of her eyelids.

A wave of cold struck Tessa, and she jerked upright, her eyes flying open. She was half-lying on the cold stone floor in front of the nearly dead fire. The room was dark, barely lit by the reddish embers in the grate. The poker was where it had been before. Her hand flew to her throat—and found the clockwork angel there.

 _A dream._ Tessa's heart fell. It had all been a dream. There was no angel to bathe her in its light. There was only the cold room, the encroaching darkness, and the clockwork angel steadily ticking down the minutes to the end of everything in the world.

She wanted to curl into a ball again and cry, but she was too numb. She just sat before the fireplace, wondering how soon the world would fall apart. _All because of me,_ she thought helplessly.

Tessa soon became aware that she was no longer alone in the room.


	25. A Call to Arms

A Call to Arms

 _To: Members of the Clave of the Nephilim_

 _From: Charlotte Branwell_

 _My Dear Brothers and Sisters in Arms,_

 _It is my sad duty to relate to you all that despite the fact that I have presented Consul Wayland with incontrovertible proof provided by one of my Shadowhunters that Mortmain, the gravest threat the Nephilim has faced in our times, is resident at Cadair Idris in Wales—our esteemed Consul has mysteriously decided to ignore this information. I myself regard knowledge of the location of our enemy and the opportunity to defeat his plans for our destruction as of the deepest importance._

 _By means provided to me by my husband, the renowned inventor Henry Branwell, the Shadowhunters at my disposal in the London Institute will be proceeding with utmost dispatch to Cadair Idris, there to lay down our lives in an attempt to stop Mortmain. I am most grieved to leave the Institute undefended, but if Consul Wayland can be roused to any action at all, he is most welcome to send guards to defend a deserted building. There are but nine of our number, three of them not even Shadowhunters but brave mundanes trained by us at the Institute who have volunteered to fight beside us. I cannot say that our hopes at this time are high, but I believe the attempt must be made._

 _Obviously I cannot compel any of you. As Consul Wayland has reminded me, I am not in a position to command the forces of the Shadowhunters, but I would be most obliged if any of you who agree with me that Mortmain must be fought and fought now will come to the London Institute tomorrow at midday and render us your assistance._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Charlotte Branwell_

Brother Enoch-

Brother Enoch sat in the library once again perusing the two letters received by the Silent Brothers in short succession the day before and this morning. The first, from Charlotte Branwell, imploring the men and women of the Nephilim to join them in battle against the threat of Mortmain. The second, from Consul Wayland, announcing a Council meeting to replace the Branwells as heads of the London Institute, a meeting mandatory by law to attend.

Silent Brothers usually weren't included in these types of matters. They were best utilized as librarians and healers, not warriors, though they did train. Brother Enoch had spent a great deal of time already thinking on the letter from Charlotte Branwell. Silent Brothers didn't have friends, as they'd agreed to leave their lives behind them when they joined the Brotherhood. That reason alone was why he had been so surprised, a rare occurrence for Silent Brothers, that James Carstairs had decided to join their ranks.

Over the past few months he'd made many trips to the London Institute after Tessa Gray had been taken there by William Herondale and the contact he'd had with them, especially Charlotte Branwell, made him believe her letter. By sending the letter, she wasn't just risking her and her husband's reputations and positions, but their lives, as well as seven other people. Three of them were mundanes and two were still underage Shadowhunters. Charlotte Branwell would not risk them or her unborn child for unreliable information, that much Brother Enoch knew.

Consul Wayland's respsonse was also peculiar to Brother Enoch. Yes, it was understandable there was anger, but by convening a Council meeting mandatory by law to attend seemed to be overcompensation by the Consul. He was deliberately making it impossible for anyone to help the Shadowhunters of the London Institute. It was not just discrediting and replacing the Branwells which mattered to him, it was allowing them to go into a battle they could not possibly win. There was a touch of humiliation, Brother Enoch thought. Also, if they did not return from Wales, the 'problem' of punishing them, more than just displacing them, would be taken care of. It was all a little too convenient.

Brother Enoch's decision was made. He would fight with those of the London Institute. He knew not many would choose to follow him into battle, but he knew there was definitely one Silent Brother who would. Brother Enoch just had to decide if he was ready. It was unusual to even consider allowing a newly converted Silent Brother to leave the Silent City this soon, but there were bigger issues to worry about than that at the moment.

Brother Enoch sat and pondered on whether he should take Brother Zachariah with him into battle or not. It wasn't a question of whether he would go, he most assuredly would. The question was if he should be involved at all. However, it was a decision only Brother Enoch could make. He was the one in charge of the Conversion and training of Brother Zachariah. Brother Enoch was torn in his answer. On the one hand, he shouldn't even consider going into battle himself, let alone take a Brother only days into his Conversion. On the other, Brother Enoch knew that if the situation were reversed, he'd want to be involved.

It was a strange sensation. Brother Enoch had been in the Brotherhood so long that it felt like an eternity since he'd had these types of feelings. He could only attribute it to spending time with the Shadowhunters of the London Institute. It was clear they all loved each other very much. And there was no denying that the arrival of Tessa Gray had turned their little world upside down, but he felt it had made them better. It was clear she had made William Herondale a better young man. Brother Enoch had learned of the reason for his transformation from Charlotte Branwell after he'd made a comment about his different behavior. Charlotte Branwell had said they hadn't made it known outside of the Institute, but she felt comfortable sharing the information with him. She knew he would not tell anyone.

They were an odd bunch, that was for sure. They'd all made their homes with each other. A part of himself that Brother Enoch thought had died long ago felt a pang of longing as he thought of the word _home._ He'd joined the Brotherhood after he'd lost his family in a brutal demon attack. And, yes, the Silent Brothers were called 'brothers' but they were not a family. Their arrested mortality and some of their runes took most of their humanity. These feelings Brother Enoch experienced were new.

Brother Enoch thought on the character of James Carstairs, now Brother Zachariah, and knew him to be resilient, as all Shadowhunters were. But in his case, there was more to it than _just_ resilience. As a boy, James Carstairs showed a maturity and grace at the way he'd acctepted his fate after it was determined he could not live without the _yin fen,_ but that it would also eventually be the cause of his demise. It was a maturity most grown men would not display in such a situation, even a Shadowhunter. And then to be treated as he was by others, the humiliation and condescension. And yet through it all, he still retained his forgiving and gracious nature.

No, Brother Enoch would not deny James Carstairs the opportunity to fight with and for the people he still loved most in this world.

...

Jem-

Jem sat in his room applying runes to his skin. Most had to be reapplied and these he could do on his own. They were the more usual runes of Shadowhunters. He was pleased that where once the application of a rune stung and burned, he barely felt it as the stele now touched his skin. He was just finishing an Accuracy rune when Brother Enoch glided into his room. It confused him because he didn't think there was anything scheduled for this time.

 _Brother Zachariah,_ Brother Enoch's voice sounded in his mind, _a situation has arisen and you are being called upon to prove yourself._

Jem looked up at him, he still had yet to think of himself as _Brother Zachariah,_ wondering why he would be allowed to leave the Silent City so soon. He was sure it would be years before he would be deemed ready to serve outside of the City of Bones. The 'situation' must be grave indeed. _It has to be Mortmain!_ Jem thought.

It still puzzled him why, however. It had been made clear to him that Mortmain was no longer his concern when he'd asked to join the Brotherhood, provided he survived the process. It had been a difficult choice, but he'd made it, knowing that one day he would see Will and Tessa again. He had no doubt Will would find her, Mortmain would be defeated, and all would eventually be well. He just didn't think he would be a part of it. The knowledge of seeing his loved ones again one day had been enough for him.

"What has happened?" Jem asked.

 _Charlotte Branwell has found the location of The Magister and has beckoned the members of the Clave for assistance in defeating him. Consul Wayland has called a meeting to replace her as head of the London Institute while a small number of Shadowhunters and mundanes will be leaving for battle. He has required members to attend by law so they cannot go without facing punishment._

Jem's blood boiled in anger. _How dare Consul Wayland?!?_ "Why would he do that? Surely he must know that by denying Charlotte's request that he is sending them to their deaths." Jem worried for all he knew would be going. Charlotte, Henry, and Sophie, Bridget and Cyril, Cecily, Gabriel and Gideon. He wondered if Magnus would be joining them. He was sure he probably would. Dread also knotted in Jem's stomach for another reason. Charlotte was pregnant! She would not make the decision to go into battle lightly and risk the baby's life if she didn't feel the conviction this was the right thing to do.

Jem was puzzled though by Brother Enoch giving him all of this information. "I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

 _I have decided to disregard the Consul's order and I am going with Charlotte Branwell._ It was all Brother Enoch said. Jem was shocked Brother Enoch would choose to disobey Consul Wayland.

"So, if you want me to 'prove myself,' that means you're taking me with you?"

 _Yes, but I have one condition._

"Name it," Jem said. _I'll do anything to help them,_ he thought in desperation.

 _They cannot know it is you. They do not know you are now callled Brother Zachariah and I wish it to remain so, if possible, for now. It is not because I wish to deceive them. I do not want their judgment clouded by your presence. I predict this battle will be fierce, and I will not lie, possibly a battle none of us will return from. I want their only focus to be of victory._

Jem nodded, seeing the sense of Brother Enoch's words. It would hurt to be so close to those he loved and not be _with_ them, but for their sake, he would keep his silence. He would do anything if it meant they would be safer. He felt Brother Enoch was correct about this fight. It would probably be a miracle if any of them survived. There was still one thing that was not clear to him.

"Why are you doing this? And I don't just mean defying Consul Wayland, but taking me? I've only been here a few days. My Conversion isn't even complete yet." Jem asked.

 _Because, James Carstairs, I would want the same opportunity to save my family if I were in your position._

It shocked Jem that Brother Enoch had called him by his given name and not his Brotherhood name. The sincerity in his tone also touched Jem's heart. It wasn't certain any of them would come back from wherever it was they were going, but Jem knew he would always be grateful he'd had the chance to be with his family one last time. It didn't matter they wouldn't know it was him. All that was important was that he was with them.

Victory or defeat, they would be together.


End file.
